Flying High, Falling Hard
by theatrewraith
Summary: When Becca crosses paths with Steve Rogers, she has no idea that she met the super-soldier from WWII. What Steve doesn't know is that Becca has a drug habit that is only getting worse. How can Steve rescue the woman he loves when she doesn't want to be saved?
1. First Impressions

New York City was always in a rush, no matter the time or day, and its residents were rarely an exception. Becca considered herself more easy-going than many of them, but right now she was irritated. She surveyed the park from where she was leaning against a tree. Where the hell was Derek? She'd been waiting for almost half an hour already. She tilted her head to peer around the side of the tree, but there was still no sign of him. She shoved her hands into her pockets.

"This is bullshit," she muttered.

Well, if she was going to be waiting a while, she might as well find a place to sit. She walked back onto the path and followed it along, passing by a bench taken by a couple. The next bench only had one guy sitting on it, whereas the one after was taken, so she decided to stop. Plus, leather jacket man was kind of hot.

"Hi," she greeted. The man looked up, his blue-eyed gaze taken aback. "Do you mind if I sit here? The other benches are full."

"Sure. Yeah," he offered, gesturing towards the other end of the bench.

"Thanks."

Becca plopped down, pulling her purse onto her lap to take the weight off of her shoulder. She stretched out her legs in front of her and crossed her ankles. It felt so good just to sit. Of course, she'd feel even better if Derek showed up. Another sweep of the park told her that he hadn't. She dug in her purse for her phone so she could listen to some music, and then remembered that she'd left it in her apartment. Awesome.

Her eyes slid sideways to the man sharing the bench. He was focused on writing something in a small notebook. She knew that she shouldn't be nosy, but she was both bored and curious, and that was the perfect combination for nosiness. Casually, she leaned her head back to get a better view. No, he wasn't writing. He was sketching the park.

"That's pretty good," Becca noted.

He appeared to be close to her age, which was a little old for art school student material, so he must just be one of the many aspiring artists in New York. Actually, he could be a famous artist for all she knew. She wasn't really up on the art scene. He glanced up at her and back to his drawing, tilting it to put the sketch in a better light.

"Thanks," he responded.

"You're welcome."

As he hadn't tried to move the drawing away, Becca felt free to examine it more closely. She should have been more generous. The likeness was spot-on. He used all those techniques she vaguely remembered from middle school art classes, stuff like perspective and shading. There was one thing she noticed in particular, though.

"Not to trample on your artistic vision, but I think if you did the tree over there–" She gestured to the real tree, which hadn't been included in the drawing. "–it would really balance the sketch out. Of course, that's my completely unprofessional I-literally-can-only-draw-stick-figures opinion, so do feel free to ignore it."

However, he didn't dismiss her opinion. The pen he was holding stopped moving, and he eyed the drawing critically. He had a very grave expression, this guy. Becca understood that there were times when one needed to be serious, but she didn't count sketching in the park as one of those times.

"Smile, dude," she prompted. "It's just a park. I really have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to art either. Here." She held out a hand. "Do you want me to draw something? I guarantee you that it'll make you feel great about your artistic ability. Although, I can do a pretty mean square." The corner of his mouth twitched up, and she grinned. "Much better." Well, the smile was a small one, but good enough. It was cute. She turned the hand that was already outstretched. "I'm Becca, by the way, and I promise I'm only obnoxious about half the time."

"Steve." They shook hands. He had a strong handshake, which Becca liked because that's how she gave them. "And I, uh, don't think you're obnoxious."

"Well, thank you." Becca laughed. "I wish I had my phone so I could get you to explain that to my parents, but apparently that is not meant to be." She tucked back a lock of dark blonde hair as the breeze blew it across her face and used the moment of silence to look over the park. Frustratingly, there was still no sign of Derek. "So, Steve, you sketch here a lot or just passing through?" she asked. He gave a bit of a shrug with both shoulders.

"I've been here a couple times. What about you?"

"Oh, I come here occasionally. I'm supposed to be meeting someone, but…" She pushed back the edge of her sleeve to check her watch. She sighed. "Yeah, they're really late." She dropped the edge of the jacket. "And here I am instead, so feel free to dazzle me so that I am quite thoroughly distracted in the meantime." She spread her arms invitingly.

His eyebrows rose. "So, no pressure."

"None at all." She grinned.

Steve's forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows drew together, either in an attempt to think of something dazzling or trying to find a way to put her off. Well, in any case, that struggling look on his face made it hard not to giggle. Poor guy, she was only teasing. Apparently, she'd gone and overdone it again. Nice one, Becca.

"Or, since I started this conversation, I suppose that's up to me to keep this interesting," she quickly offered instead, before he stressed himself out. "Um…Well, I can do this one thing." She set her purse on the bench and got to her feet. "Some people think it's kind of gross, so you've been forewarned."

Steve let out a breath that sounded like it was on the verge of a laugh. "Okay."

"All right. Here we go."

Becca wriggled her fingers to focus herself, staring at the railing along the outside of the park. Then, she slowly raised her arms until they were stretched straight up towards the sky. Now, here was the difficult part. She took a breath and relaxed as much as she could. She moved her shoulders, feeling a temporary pinch, and then it was gone and she was letting her hands fall backwards and swing around. Her arms had rotated a whole three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.

She'd been hit by a truck a little over a month ago, and this trick of dislocating her shoulders was about the only good thing to come out of it. She held out her hands by her sides and waved them in a 'ta-da' gesture. From his expression, she was sure that was not at all what he'd been expecting, but he still had that small smile.

"That was…" He hesitated, glancing up at the sky as he searched for a word.

"Weird?" she volunteered, dropping her arms.

"Yes – no."

Becca sat back down. "It's okay. I'm not offended."

"Well, I certainly can't do anything like that."

"Can you whistle?"

"Can I… whistle?" Steve repeated.

"Yeah, you know, whistling. Can you do it?"

"Sure, but that's nothing special."

"Well, I can't whistle, so I'm endlessly fascinated by people who can." Becca rested an arm on the back of the bench and leaned her head against the back of her hand. "So let's hear a few notes."

Steve shook his head, but it wasn't a refusal. It looked more like he couldn't believe this conversation was happening. Then, he began to whistle. He was great at it, but since she couldn't whistle herself, she tended to think that about everyone. At least, the notes didn't sound off-key. He didn't go on for long, and she clapped a few times when he stopped, causing him to let out that laugh-like breath again.

"Thanks, but like I said, I don't think that quite measures up."

She shrugged. "Hey, I liked it fine. Better than doing something–"

"Weird," Steve offered.

Her eyes widened with surprise. So this guy could be sassy.

"All right, mister." She crossed her arms. "I said I liked it fine, not that it was better than my trick."

"Sorry." The apology sounded sincere, although the lingering smile negated it a bit. Not that it really mattered, as Becca wasn't actually upset.

"Uh-huh. You'd better be." Becca glanced to the side and did a double take as she spotted Derek out of the corner of her eye. Finally. She pulled her purse strap back up over her shoulder. "Well, I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you, Steve."

If Steve was surprised by her abrupt move to leave, he didn't show it. "Yeah, nice meeting you, too."

"And remember not to look so serious while you're sketching," she added.

"Right. I'll remember."

Satisfied, Becca gave him a single wave of her hand and hurried off down the path to where Derek was waiting.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Greetings and welcome to my first Avengers fanfic! *throws themed confetti* There will be fluff, sass, angst, romance, and lots of other fun things. This is a short chapter just to kick things off, but expect more from here on out. **

**This fanfic is starting about a month before the Avengers film, but we will get there. I'm taking a few liberties with the timeline. Steve has recently woken up from his ice slumber, so he's still getting himself situated. Becca just sort of happens to him.**

** As I mentioned in the summary, Becca will be developing an addiction, specifically to prescription medication (Oxycodone and Adderall). This will become more central to the story as the addiction progresses. However, some of the effects are already visible in her personality, which will become apparent when we see her with the medication wearing off (but that's not for a few chapters duckies). **

**Rated M for language, substance abuse, mild violence (later), and fonduing, er, sexual situations (much later). **

**I very much appreciate reviews, favorites, follows, and all that good stuff. **

**Many thanks to michysminions and anselm0 for their suggestions as I was planning this fanfic. **


	2. Operation Frozen Deliciousness

If Becca didn't get ice cream, she was going to die. Okay, she wasn't actually going to die, but that's how it felt as she stared into the freezer which was sadly devoid of ice cream. She shut the door and opened it again, which had the usual effect of doing absolutely nothing. She prodded half-heartedly between the bags of frozen vegetables and popcorn chicken as if that might do what closing the door had not. She could ask Ally, her roommate, to pick up a carton on the way home from work. She leaned back to get a better view of the clock on the microwave.

"Ugh, three hours," she groaned. She wasn't waiting three hours. She needed ice cream _now_.

The nice thing about working from her apartment was that she could get ice cream if she wanted. Becca ran a brush through her hair a few times, put on some mascara, threw on a cardigan over an old t-shirt that was making its current living as pajamas, and called that good enough. It wasn't like she was going to impress anyone when she set down a huge tub of ice cream with what would definitely be too much enthusiasm. Oh well, she would be damned if she was going to let anyone's opinions come between her and her one true love: food.

Becca took out a bottle of prescription Oxycodone and another bottle with Adderall from a drawer in her bedroom. She swallowed one tablet from each and tossed the rest of the bottles into her purse as an added precaution. With her purse slung over her shoulder, she marched out of the apartment on a mission. Operation Frozen Deliciousness was a go.

There were a few close convenience stores that had small tubs of Ben & Jerry's or ice cream sandwiches. However, Becca decided that she'd rather hit up a supermarket so she could get enough that there wouldn't be another ice cream crisis in the foreseeable future. The nearest was a bit of a walk, but she considered that burning off all of the calories she was going to consume later.

Becca forded into the busy streets partly wishing that the rain promised by the news was actually happening so that the sidewalks would be clearer. She devoted her thoughts instead to the all-important task of choosing a flavor, and by the time she was within blocks of the supermarket, she was fairly certain she was in the mood for mint chocolate chip. Although, cookie dough was also sounding pretty good. Or black raspberry. Okay, maybe this needed further consideration.

Becca waited on the fringes of a crowded crosswalk bouncing on her heels in anticipation. Someone jostled her elbow causing her to shuffle automatically out of the way. She glanced up to where people were joining the crowd as they streamed across from another crosswalk. Before her eyes could drift back to the red signal, she saw someone in the flood that she recognized. It was that hot artist guy from the park a few days ago! And he was once again looking a little too serious. Shit, what was his name? And why hadn't she put on something that looked less like she'd fallen straight off of her couch?

A hand through her hair was the best she could do before calling, "Hey!"

A ripple of heads turned in her direction, but his was one of them. Becca smiled and waved. She couldn't remember his name. Kevin? Chris? No, that was totally wrong.

The man's eyes flicked to the side as though she might be talking to someone else. When no one responded on either side of him, his attention turned back to her.

Becca was feeling an S-name, but that didn't narrow it down a whole lot. Damn. She beckoned to him, after which he finally returned a smaller version of smile she was giving him and shuffled his way through the crowd.

"Hi," she greeted once he was close enough.

"Hi," he echoed. "Becca, right?"

"Yeah." She was both pleased that he remembered her name and annoyed since she couldn't remember his. Not the best impression to make. Rather than have an awkward pause, she directly asked, "Sorry, what was your name, again? I'm so awful with names."

"Steve," he offered, fortunately not sounding offended.

"That's right." That wasn't even a hard name to remember. In her defense, she'd never expected to see him again. New York was a huge place. "Hi, Steve."

His smile stretched a little wider. "Hi."

The crosswalk signal finally flicked to a tiny white figure, and they followed the herd across the street.

"You coming back from the gym?" she asked, noticing the light sheen of sweat but choosing to indicate the duffel bag he was holding instead.

"Yeah."

"Ah. Good for you. I can't stand going to the gym. Those places cost…" She wrinkled her nose up and made a disgusted face. "Money."

He chuckled. "Well, I can't argue with that."

"Exactly, and going for a run outside is totally free, if slightly more dangerous." Or a lot more dangerous depending on the neighborhood. She shrugged. "But hey, that's me. Living on the edge, all day, every day."

"Oh, yeah?" His eyebrows rose. "And where is it you're headed?"

"To get ice cream," she informed him, attempting to strike a valiant pose while continuing to walk. "I might even mix two flavors. Like I said, living on the edge."

"Ice cream, huh?" Steve questioned. She nodded. "But doesn't that cost…"

Becca frowned, realizing where this was about to go. "Okay, hold on."

"…money?" The serious expression Steve was attempting to maintain couldn't hide the bemused spark in his eyes.

"All right, yes. But one –" She counted on her fingers. " – not as much money, and two, ice cream equals happiness and going to the gym equals pain and suffering."

"I don't know if that's right," Steve replied, nearly knocking into her when a man pushed past him. He barely spared the man a glance.

"What?" Becca gaped, exasperated.

Oh God, was he one of those people that really loved working out? Even more than ice cream? She never understood people like that, and so felt the compulsion to enlighten them. Besides, Becca had a feeling that if she left him, he'd go back to being all grim. If she could be any help with that she was happy to do so, especially if there was food involved. Not to mention, any excuse to hang out with someone cute was not to be passed up.

"You clearly have not had the right ice cream. I need to help you see the light. You should come with me."

Never mind the supermarket. She was taking him to Black Ice. The ice cream shakes from that shop made everything else seem bland and boring by comparison. If she could afford to go all the time and not have to roll down the street to get there, she would.

"Oh, um…" Steve tilted his head in the direction that was probably where he had heading.

"Unless you have somewhere else to be," she quickly added.

Becca had a bad habit of getting over excited or, as her younger brother put it, "frickin' pushy." This was important though. She couldn't let anyone go around thinking ice cream was anything less than complete amazingness. Furthermore, this was how she was normally, so Steve had might as well know what he was in for. Dialing her personality down took an effort only worthwhile at large family gatherings and meeting someone's parents. Unless she was making him really uncomfortable in which case…

"No," Steve assured her before she decided if she should back off any further. "I'd like to come."

"Okay, great!" She beamed. This was going to be even better than an entire tub of mint chocolate chip. "In that case, we're going to have to backtrack a bit."

Which on a busy sidewalk meant some tricky sidling through people to get to the opposite side of the sidewalk. It always gave her flashbacks to playing Frogger as a teen. However, they both managed with relatively little struggle and integrated back into the flow.

"You haven't been to Black Ice, have you?" she asked.

Steve shook his head. "No."

"Oh good. Well, not "good" because you've been missing out, but "good" because if you had and didn't believe ice cream is happiness then…" She shook her head. "…Then clearly you are just not a person."

"That good, huh?"

"The best," she sighed dreamily. "You'll see."

At least, Becca had never met anyone who regretting going. She hadn't been in a while though. When the price was six dollars for a regular sized shake, it was enough to put her off regular trips. In fact, the last time she remembered splurging was with Tess, and that had to be at least a few months ago. As much as she enjoyed going with a friend, going with a good looking guy, well…

Becca lifted her gaze, meeting Steve's eyes as he glanced at her, and widened her smile. He had to be single, right? True, he certainly didn't have the look of someone who would be single very often. He was tall; the top of her head just barely met his shoulders. Broad shoulders that hinted at muscle even if they were hidden beneath a jacket. He had a strong cut jaw, plus the blue eye/blonde hair combination going for him. His clothing reminded her vaguely of old photos of her grandfather, but it was clean and unrumpled. The older fashion worked on him in a weird way.

Don't stare. She focused back on making sure she wasn't going to run into anyone.

Guys in relationships didn't usually take random women up on offers of going out somewhere. Unless he was cheating. Not that this was a date in any way, but still. Besides, she wasn't getting a cheater vibe from him. Despite the occasion snappy comment, there was something about him that came across as uncertain. Ugh, with her luck he would probably turn out to be gay. Since they were together for a while, she did have time to find out.

"So are you from around here then?" she asked.

"Yeah," Steve answered, looking relieved for an easy topic of conversation. "I grew up in Brooklyn."

"Oh, no way."

"Yeah. How 'bout you?"

"Right state, different –" A car horn blared, and she paused until the annoyed driver stopped honking. "– different town. I'm from a small town up near the Canadian border. It's called Ellenburg." As usual, that got no reaction, so she continued, "But I moved here for college, and I liked it so much that I stayed."

"So you work in the city," Steve gathered.

"Even better. I work right in my apartment. I'm a copywriter, so you know all those ads you ignore on Facebook and other websites?" She pointed toward herself. "I write those. It pays decent, and it can be pretty fun. What's it you do?"

"I'm…" His forehead wrinkled as he winced. "I was in the army. I'm sort of… on a leave of absence."

And he did not look happy about it. "Oh." While Becca was curious, she didn't want to prod a touchy subject. "Um, well, at least that leaves you time to get roped into going out for ice cream, right?"

His smile resurfaced. "I've heard it's an experience."

"That sounds suspiciously like doubt in your tone, Steve," she noted, crossing her arms. He held up a placating hand, but she merely arched an eyebrow. "I'll make a believer out of you yet."

"I'm sure you will."

The comment didn't sound mocking, but she couldn't help giving him a light poke in the ribs. His hand rose in instinctive retaliation, but he seemed to think better of it because he dropped it right away. Not before Becca caught the movement though. He looked kind of embarrassed. It was cute.

Becca nodded to her right. "Come on. It's down here."

She directed them to another, narrower street. The constant stream of people ebbed. Most were hesitant to trek down a side street unless they knew where they were headed. However, those that did congregated around one specific place.

Despite the general dinginess, or perhaps because of it, Black Ice managed to have a gleaming quality about it. There were shards of black glass that glinted, lit from behind in a way that made the tips of the glass glow. That glass framed the doorway covering the edges of the tall, frosted windows. Inside were a slew of small tables and flat screens playing hipster music videos.

The line actually wasn't too bad. Becca had been here on much busier days. Of course, they were still outside of the door, but the place wasn't huge and the service was quick. She squinted through the windows, trying to read the large display of that day's flavors through a frosted section of glass and wishing she were taller.

"Okay, so you absolutely _have _to get an ice cream shake," she instructed. "The ice cream by itself is amazing, but the shakes are yuuuum." Her eyelids fluttered in pleasure just imagining the taste.

"Which one should I get?" Steve asked, attempting to get a look himself. The window was clearer at his eye level.

"Ah, they rotate the flavors out daily, so I couldn't tell you. Whatever you get, you will not be disappointed," she promised.

"Does…" He leaned forward, almost pressing his nose to the glass. "Does that say 'prosciutto melon'?"

Becca stood on her tip-toes to try and see over a wide section of frost in vain. Nope, not tall enough.

"Probably." She landed back on her heels. "They have interesting flavors."

"Uh huh."

"You don't have to get that flavor," she pointed out.

"Well, that's a relief."

"But you also don't get to back out now, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't."

"Uh huh," she rumbled in an exaggerated inflection of his voice.

Steve looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she gave him her best innocent grin.

"They also have chocolate," he noted.

She snorted. "Booooring. I didn't rescue you from the insanity of thinking the gym is okay so you can make more bad choices."

"I don't think I've met anyone who thought chocolate is a bad choice."

She shrugged. "It is when you can find something better." Steve put out a hand to hold open the door as the line shuffled forward. "Thanks."

Since she could now see the screens that displayed all the flavors, Becca took few minutes to decide which one she wanted to get herself. There were so many good options, but she finally landed on strawberry lavender.

Steve was eyeing the display with a way too serious expression, so she nudged him.

"It's not a test. It's just ice cream," she said.

"It kind of feels like a test."

Her eyebrows drew together. "How?"

"Well, apparently chocolate was a wrong choice," Steve reminded her.

"Oh that." Becca waved a hand dismissively. "If you really want it, go ahead. I just like being difficult."

He laughed. "I noticed."

Becca's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

Steve's laughter spluttered out at the sharpness in her tone. Becca maintained a shocked expression, which was difficult as Steve's face was pretty priceless while he began to stutter through an apology, but only for a couple of seconds before she burst into giggles.

"I'm sorry," she wheezed. "I'm sorry. I'm not offended. It's fine. Oh my god, your face though." She shook her head, choking back deep breaths. "Sorry. Here, we have to choose what we want now, so I hope you're ready."

There was a touch screen that allowed them to put in orders a few customers ahead to keep the line going. Becca tried to control her laughter while she picked out her shake, but only fell into another fit of giggles when Steve muttered "difficult" under his breath.

At least Steve was smiling, so she didn't worry too much. That joke was only good once anyway. She could play nice for a while. Plus, he picked Buttermilk Caramel Apple, which was adventurous enough that she didn't have to tease him about it.

"A plus for you," she said. Oh, who was she kidding? Mostly not teasing. When he didn't press the "check out" button, she asked, "Did…you want anything else?"

"No, this is fine," he assured her.

"Okay." She pressed the button herself and took a step forward. "I hope you're excited."

"Definitely," he stated in such a flat tone that Becca gave him a look.

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Um, sure," he said.

"Never take up any profession that extensively involves lying."

"Noted," he laughed.

"Because you're really bad at it. I mean, really bad."

"Yeah, all right."

"I mean, like, if you had to lie to save your life, you'd probably fail." Becca shrugged in a mildly apologetic manner as Steve gave her a sideways look. "Don't you wish I had a mute button?"

"Well, I could answer, but like you said I'm not a good liar," he retorted with a grin.

Becca laughed. "I like you, Steve. I just might have to keep you."

It was out of her mouth before she could think, as was all too often the case. Becca's face flushed, and she bit down on the corner of her lip. That was a bit much taken the wrong way. She always rambled on until her big mouth got her in trouble.

Steve blinked, but as she looked embarrassed enough for both of them, he replied, "Is that going to involve coming here again? Because next time I'm getting chocolate."

Becca let out a relieved breath, the corners of her lips curving upwards. "If you must."

"Becca!" called a woman behind the counter.

"Ooo, that's us," Becca squealed, clasping her hands together in anticipation.

She took the two proffered shakes, checking the label before handing the correct one to Steve. The white styrofoam was so unsuspecting for all the tastiness it held, and also very cold. She switched between hands.

"That'll be thirteen seventy-five," the cashier stated after looking over their cups.

Becca set hers down in front of the cash register without taking a sip so she could dig through her purse for her wallet. Movement caught the edge of her vision. Steve had set his duffel bag on the floor and taken out a wallet.

"No way. I've got it," she stated. "I invited you."

Steve stopped with his hand in the billfold. "But –"

"Nope, it's my treat," she insisted, pulling out her own wallet.

"I can't –"

"Too late." She handed over a credit card before Steve could offer the cash. "It's nice of you to offer, but since I did invite you this one's on me."

Steve's fingers curled around the bills, and she thought he was going to press them on her. Then, he shifted them back into his wallet.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Becca signed her name and took her card back, shoving the entire wallet back into her purse so that she could pick up her shake. She scanned the tables, wondering if they were going to be out of luck or have do that thing where they pretended not to be hovering like vultures over someone who was cleaning up their table. As it turned out, neither was the case because one table was suddenly empty. She took the initiative to quickly thread her way over to it.

Once they were seated across from each other, she said, "All right, now take a sip of that shake and tell me it is not the best thing you have ever tasted.

* * *

><p>Steve had no idea how he'd gotten here. It seemed like one minute he was walking back to his apartment and hearing a voice shouting "Hey!" in a crowd, and now here he was with the best tasting shake he'd ever had sitting across from Becca in an ice cream shop whose interior made it very apparent that it had been built within the last few years.<p>

The entire situation should have made him uncomfortable. He still felt out of place when he was somewhere that gleamed with all the new technology and bright colors the twenty-first century had to offer. The food nearly always tasted unnaturally better, although that was a change he appreciated. Most of all, however, it was talking to Becca that was strange. He wasn't afraid of dames – women, no one said "dame" anymore – but he had never been good at talking to them, mostly because he hadn't gotten much of a chance. With Peggy, he'd gotten a bit better, but only after he'd gotten to know her. It was that beginning part where he stumbled all over himself, especially when they were beautiful. Maybe Becca wasn't dynamite beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive.

"Hello. Earth to Steve."

Maybe it was because Becca seemed so, well, normal that he liked her. She didn't take anything too seriously and had the kind of sardonic humor to which he could relate. Honestly, it was just nice to have someone to talk with. He hadn't realized how much he missed that until she came along. That was most of why he'd agreed to come here with her. That and he was so unused to having a woman ask him anywhere that he wasn't sure he could turn her down.

"Um, Steve?"

Steve blinked and looked up from his shake. Becca was staring at him with amusement, resting her chin on her hands. She lifted her head when she saw that she had his attention.

"There you are. I mean, I knew these shakes were great, but jeez, where'd you go?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "Sorry. I just…" He lifted his cup. "You were right. Happiness in a cup."

Her feature lit with triumph. "Told you." She took a sip and sighed. "Heaven."

"If you like the taste of flowers," he murmured over the rim of his shake.

Becca eyed him severely. "And your buttermilk apples whatever are any better?" she huffed.

"You don't like apples?" he asked in disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I like apples. I'm a human being. I just couldn't let you talk down my shake."

Steve shook his head and swallowed another mouthful. She hadn't been lying about this ice cream. He'd already downed half of it.

When Becca noticed, he thought she was going to tease him about it, but instead she said, "You should have seen the first time I got one of these. I chugged in about a minute without noticing. I'm pretty sure John still has a pic on his phone from that day. I'm looking at the bottom of the cup like I just lost a puppy in it or something."

He studied her carefully, wondering if he should ask about John. He knew this wasn't a date. At least, he hoped it wasn't. He didn't know what counted by today's standards. He was still trying to sort out just living in this century, never mind dating. He couldn't even get a real date back home. Deciding that she probably wouldn't think anything of the question, he asked.

"So is John your –"

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Just a friend. I don't have a boyfriend." Becca tipped her head in a rapid, darting movement that reminded him of a bird. "Do you? Or a girlfriend or whatever?"

"No. No girlfriend."

He hadn't really even dated Peggy, although that hadn't diminished his feelings for her. As to having a boyfriend, he'd once thought maybe… But that memory hurt too much to prod so he buried it back way down deep.

"Well, friends are good, too." She slipped her long hair back behind her left ear, keeping it away from where it had been falling dangerous close to her shake.

"They are," he agreed. Dating was too much too soon, but a friend he wouldn't mind especially if they weren't going to treat him different from anybody else.

Becca held up her cup hopefully. "Friends?"

"Friends," he repeated, knocking his cup lightly against hers.

"And I know you mean it," she said. He lifted his drink. Becca took another sip of her shake before finishing, "Because you're a really awful liar."

Steve choked on a mouthful of shake, nearly unable to swallow it without spitting everywhere. Becca smiled to herself over the edge of her cup and winked at him.

He coughed, certain that he'd accidently inhaled some of the cold liquid. It felt like his throat was burning. He swallowed painfully.

"You don't let things go, do you?"

"I talked to you for five minutes a few days ago and now you're here in an ice cream parlor with me," she pointed out. "What do you think?"

Good point. He thought it over.

"I think we're going to have to come here again because this–" He tilted his cup. "–is the best thing I've ever tasted."

"No argument here. I wish they had cartons of this stuff you could bring home." She gave her cup a longing look. "Except the Olive Oil one." She wrinkled her nose, the light dusting of freckles across it clumping together. "That was a mistake."

"Olive Oil?" Steve tried to imagine the taste of that particular substance in ice cream and then decided that he'd rather not. "Suddenly, chocolate isn't sounding so bad, is it?" he said dryly.

"Tch. Now who's not letting things go?" she quipped.

Likely she'd meant to hit his foot, but Becca knocked into the table stand instead. The kick had been a light one so the table barely shifted, but they both made a grab for their cups to keep them from spilling. Steve slowly removed his hand from her cup as Becca let out a relieved breath.

"Another thing you should know about me is that I'm a walking disaster."

"Swell." He feigned a sigh. "Is it too late to back out of this friendship?"

Becca gave him a look that implied she was thinking of giving him a better-aimed kick but then held up her hands.

"If you want to go back to your sad life of going to the gym and not having someone to take you on random adventures, by all means go back and stare at the walls of your apartment."

That hit a little close to the truth. Becca might be a touch overly enthusiastic, but after meeting her he was pretty sure his apartment was going to seem very dull when he returned to it. However…

"I don't think this qualifies as an adventure," he stated.

Becca opened her mouth, then shut it with a considering expression. Steve felt a moment of triumph for stumping her and then realized how ridiculous that was.

"Okay, this is a mini adventure," Becca conceded after some thought. She pursed her lips. "But next time will be a real one."

"Is this the part where I should be excited?"

Becca's eyes sparkled with mischief. "This is the part where you should be worried."

That didn't sound concerning at all. Well, really he was more curious than anything as to what Becca had in mind. This sounded like a challenge, and he never backed down from one of those.

"You actually make friends this way?"

"You'd be surprised," said Becca with a laugh. "Tell you what, if you want, you can give me your number, and I'll text you when I've got something lined up."

Steve had a cell phone and he even sort of knew how to use it, but there hadn't been any excuse to send a text. He watched Becca search through her purse. He also knew that texts would not go through regular phones. She could just call him, right? Talking on the phone would make him feel more at ease than an attempt to figure out how to use texting. Maybe it would be better if he called her?

"All right." Becca held a finger poised over the cell phone. "Lay it on me."

"I'll call you."

"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "How are you supposed to know when I've got something lined up, silly?"

"I…" What was he supposed to tell her? "I just got a new number so don't have it all memorized yet."

Becca stared at him. It wasn't a lie, but he saw that expression flicker over her face just the same. She didn't believe him.

"Oh…" Her voice sounded slightly subdued. "Okay, yeah I can… write my number down." She dropped her cell phone back and found a pen instead.

Steve ground his back teeth, feeling guilty. This was an experience he'd shared all too often. There were bunch of girls who he'd never heard from again. Only this wasn't the same because he actually did mean to call her. Even if he hadn't, the hurt that had pierced through her eyes before she pushed it away would have made him think twice.

"I really will call," he said softly.

"I believe you," Becca answered without looking up from the napkin she was writing on, not sounding like she had faith in him at all.

"I'm a bad liar, remember?"

Becca pushed the napkin across to him. She surveyed him and gave him a cautious smile. "The worst."

That was better. Steve didn't think she completely believed him, but at least she appeared less wounded.

"I should probably get back though," she said, scooting her chair back. "I have this deadline, and I didn't mean to be out so long."

"Sure."

He swallowed the rest of his shake while he stood, not that there was much of it left. With Becca or not, he was definitely making a return trip. He took the napkin with her number and tucked it in his pants pocket, picking up his bag with his free hand. Avoiding the couple who were standing patiently near their table, he tossed his cup into the trash and made sure to get to the door before Becca so he could take it from the person waiting in line.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"You're welcome." Steve handed the door back and rapidly took a couple of steps to catch up to her. "I'll walk you back."

"That's sweet of you," she said, looking a bit puzzled. "But I'm all right."

"It's not any trouble," he assured her.

"I think I can make it. I'm a big girl. I can tie my own shoes and everything."

"You're on my way."

"No, I'm not," she laughed. "You're making that up."

Steve shrugged. She was probably right. He had no idea where Becca lived, but he felt like he should walk her home regardless.

She must have come to a decision about him because she said with assurance, "You really are going to call me, aren't you?"

"I said I would."

"I didn't believe you."

"I noticed. What made you change your mind?" he asked.

She leaned toward him and explained in a conspiratorial whisper, "No one insists on walking a girl home that they never intend to see again."

"Right." He let the silence hang for a minute. "Does this mean I can walk you back?"

She laughed again. "Is your apartment this way?" Becca gestured with her thumb down a street that was definitely not in the direction of his apartment.

"No," he admitted.

"Then, not a chance." Becca held out her right hand, and Steve shook it. "Bye, Steve."

"Bye, Becca."

Steve watched her back retreating for a couple of seconds before turning in the opposite direction. He might still be trying to catch up with this century, but he thought that in Becca maybe he'd found someone who would make him feel a little less out of place.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Thus began the great adventures of Steve and Becca. Meaning there is going to be lots of sassing. **

**So this chapter included the first Steve POV. I'm both nervous and excited to be working with the perspective of an established character. My experience lies more in the realm of OCs, but I think that it is going to be important (and fun) to have both of their POVS. Expect to get a peek into both of their heads during every chapter from here on out. **

**Finally, thanks for the support! The next chapter should be up before Christmas. **


	3. A Real Adventure

Trying to decide when he should call Becca was turning out to be more of a problem than he'd thought. Steve knew that the very next day was out. She had told him that she needed to "get something lined up." That took time, although how much time he had no idea because he hadn't any guess as to what that "something" might be. It really would have been easier if he gave her his number, but it was too late for that.

The longer he waited to call Becca, however, the more likely she was to think he never meant to pick up the phone. Surely she wouldn't be that broken up about it, but he remembered the way she looked at him for a split second, hurt and disappointed. Yeah, he wasn't going to be responsible for that. So when he was at "his" apartment, or a park, coffee shop, museum, anywhere that got him out of his apartment, he always found his thoughts would eventually come back to Becca because that was the most immediate situation that he felt like he could deal with.

After four days of going around in circles, he figured that he might as well call her now because over thinking this was getting him nowhere.

Steve picked up the phone, glanced over the napkin with her number which had been waiting for him right next to the phone since he placed it there on Friday, and punched in the numbers. It took three rings before she picked up.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi, Becca. It's Steve."

"_Oh, hi! Just give me one sec."_ A scraping sound came through followed by some muffled thuds and a not-so-muffled thud. _"Sorry, my roommate is watching Netflix, and I didn't want to bother her. So – ready for a real adventure?"_

He was ready for just about anything that wasn't quite so… slow.

"Yes, ma'am."

"_Great, then I've got an idea. How's your Thursday look?" _

"Same as everyone's. I think they said sunny."

Becca laughed, her voice accompanied by a clicking noise he recognized as computer keys.

"_Does… two-thirty work for you?"_

"Yeah."

"_Okay, cool." _More clicking. _"Is this a number I can text you at in case anything happens?" _

And this was why he memorized both numbers. "Uh, no. That's seven-one-eight six –"

"_Hold on a sec…. Okay, now go." _

Steve reeled off his phone number while Becca murmured back the numbers.

"_Got it. So you are going to meet me at two-thirty at the Bethesda Terrace in Central Park_."

"Do I get to know what we're doing?" he asked. That wasn't the place he thought Becca would choose. Not that he even knew half this city anymore.

"_Nope. It's a surprise, so no looking things up because that's cheating. Promise?" _

What had they put in Central Park that counted as an adventure?

"I promise."

"_Good, then I'll meet you by the fountain. Oh and wear good walking shoes. Possibly jogging shoes. There may be some jogging involved towards the end. Or running." _

Now he had even less of an idea about what they were going to be doing.

"Any chance of getting a hint?" he questioned.

Steve could hear the grin in her voice as she said, _"Bye, Steve," _and hung up. He lowered the phone from his ear, considering if taking another walk around Central Park was considered "cheating."

* * *

><p>The screaming kid who had been sitting on the edge of the fountain finally got up and left, clutched firmly in her mother's hand. Becca let out a long sigh and rubbed her ringing ears. Another few seconds and she would have moved, although she wasn't sure where since the entire fountain was surrounded by people. She'd already almost lost her spot when a group of tourists asked her to take their picture. She had anticipated that avoiding the weekend would make things less busy, but apparently not. At least it wasn't the height of tourist season.<p>

Becca leaned back, the edge of her vision filled by the wings of the angel statue in the middle of the fountain while the rest was blue sky. It was a gorgeous day for mid-spring, which was fortunate or her plans would have been totally ruined. She pulled up her legs, resting her sneakers on the edge of the fountain. Hopefully, Steve thought she picked a good adventure. She thought they should start small, and Kellyn had given her this idea with the assurance that they'd have a lot of fun.

"You're early."

Becca jumped causing one hand to slip and nearly land in the water. Steve reached out in case she fell, but she righted herself without that embarrassment.

"And you crept up on me," she accused, getting to her feet to avoid any other mishaps.

"Well, this may come as a surprise to you." He waved in the direction she'd been looking, which was up at the sky. "But I can't actually fly."

"And I had such hopes for you," Becca sighed, but then clapped her hands and rubbed them together making for the Terrace steps. "So. Got any guesses as to what we're doing?"

"No. I took a look around but –"

"You looked stuff up?!"

"No. I took a walk," he corrected. "And it didn't help."

Becca huffed. "You are aware that's cheating right?"

"You didn't say that was cheating."

"Yeah, well, it's not on the Terrace anyway," said Becca. "The Terrace was a diversion, and you fell for it. So there."

"I think you're taking this a little seriously," Steve teased.

"Oh, you have no idea. I hope you have a competitive streak by the way, because we are going to win this."

Steve looked at her curiously, so Becca pointed to a kiosk further up the path. The boards of the kiosk were a blinding white, painted over with "Secret City Puzzles and Games" in green lettering. A middle-aged man stood in the center with a hat that matched the kiosk pulled low over his forehead. A name tag on his chest introduced him as "Charlie."

"Hi," Becca greeted. "I put in a pre-order. My name's Becca Stroud."

"Sure thing."

Charlie bent down and pulled out a manila envelope. The front had Becca's name printed on it along with "Scavenger Hunt – Park – Adult – One Hour." He set it in front of them.

"You folks done this before?" Charlie asked. Both Becca and Steve shook their heads. "Well, all right. What you've got in here is a list with some landmarks and such. What you're going to need to do is get pictures of all of them with you two in the pictures. You get it done in an hour, and you win. Would you like a map?"

"Oh, no. We're doing this the real way," Becca asserted.

"All right," Charlie chuckled. He took out a pen to write down the time, and Becca pressed the timer on her watch, having already set it at an hour. "Good luck."

"Thank you." Becca took the envelope from him, and she and Steve moved so as not to block the kiosk.

"I haven't done one of these in a long time," Steve noted.

"Me either." She opened the envelope. "It's time to brush off the skills."

There was a plain sheet of paper inside with the list printed on it. Some of the requirements had accompanying pictures, but most of them didn't.

Alice in Wonderland

Big dog on a walk

Carousel

Couple in matching outfits

Chess pavilion

Ducks

Someone flying a kite

Horse-drawn carriages

IMAGINE

Playground slide

The list was in alphabetical order rather than ease of access, so Becca figured they should make a plan. Since Steve wasn't hurrying her off, she assumed that he agreed. For a minute they considered the list in silence.

"This is close," Steve said, pointing to the word "Carousel."

"I think 'Alice in Wonderland' is closer though. I'm pretty sure it's like…" She waved to her left.

"All right, and the carriages are down on fifty-ninth. Ducks we can find in the lake. Isn't the Chess Pavilion between those two?" Steve looked up, peering through the trees as if he could see the pavilion from here. "At least it was…"

"I… I think so? You'd probably know better than me." Becca took out a pen and numbered the items. "We can make it a loop. Go by 'IMAGINE' on the way to the Lake." She tapped the picture of the slide. "Do you know where this is?"

"No."

"Damn," Becca muttered. "I don't either. Well, the rest I guess we'll just have to find."

Steve nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Okay. You can man the list. I will take the pictures," she decided. Becca handed over the list and took out her phone.

As it turned out the Alice in Wonderland statue was only sort of in the direction Becca had remembered. It was the closest if they had taken the direct path there, but she picked the wrong path to go down so they had to backtrack. The last time she'd been here was in the fall, so she felt entitled to a hazy memory. Besides, Steve hadn't corrected her, and he'd grown up here so she couldn't feel too bad about making a mistake. This would have to be her only one though because it cost them time.

"If you're going to be in this selfie, you're going to need to bend down a little or it's just going to be me and your chest," Becca instructed while they stood in front of the Alice's bronze statue.

"In this what?" Steve asked, sounding confused.

Becca arched an eyebrow. Were there still people who didn't know the word "selfie"? She was pretty sure at this point the word had caught on, but maybe not. She supposed men were less prone to taking them.

"The picture. And come a little closer, too."

Steve moved next to her so they were nearly touching and crouched slightly. Becca held out her phone so the front camera was facing them, putting it at the right angle to get them and the statue.

"Smile," she sang, putting on a big smile herself.

With the first item checked off, they headed for the carousel. Becca kept her eyes open for the things on the list that didn't have a specific location. There were so many people out that she wasn't too worried about locating everything, only finding it all before time ran out. Between the two of them they had to be able to do it, right? She hadn't even picked the most difficult scavenger hunt.

Becca almost missed the slide because it was slate gray and carved into a hill half hidden by the rest of the playground equipment. She tapped Steve's arm and nodded to the slide.

"I think it'll be a little hard to get both of us at once, so it's probably fine if you just go," she suggested as they cut through the playground. "I'll get the picture."

"Sure," Steve agreed, folding up the list and tucking it in his jacket.

There was a line for the slide on the steps to the top, and it was comprised mostly of little kids. Becca covered her mouth and giggled to herself over how huge Steve looked standing in the middle of them. He might as well be surrounded by a litter of puppies. The girl behind him had such a confused expression, Becca half expected her to give him a tap and tell him the slide wasn't for adults.

When Steve reached the top, Becca lifted her camera and gave him a thumbs-up. She decided on video so there would be more proof than a blurry image. That, as it turned out, was a smart move because whatever the slide was built out of, it made the ride a fast one.

Steve returned to her with his neatly combed hair tousled and a boyish grin.

"You want another go, boyo?" she teased. "I can wait on the bench."

"All set. We should keep moving."

"If you're sure. You're just going to want to…" Becca ran a hand through her hair. "You're looking a little windblown."

Steve had his hair fixed when they reached the carousel. Now, Becca might have teased him about the slide, but she did love carousels even if they were meant for kids. There was a carousel near her grandparent's house that she'd always begged to visit when she was younger. Possibly a few times as an adult. This carousel wasn't quite as big, but the horses were still beautifully painted.

Steve must have read her longing look because he asked, "Do you want to go on?"

"Oh…" Becca checked her watch. They'd already taken fifteen minutes, and to wait in line and then take a ride that was at least another ten. "No, we better just take the picture."

Steve looked like he was about to argue otherwise, but merely said, "After."

"After," she agreed.

With three items down, they went to the front gates on 59th where all the carriages were lined up. That picture was easy enough because there were so many carriages, and the chess pavilion also proved no problem. Apart from all the tables for real games of chess, there was a huge chess board on the floor with giant pieces with which children could play. Of course, Becca had to insist on using that chess board. The picture ending up being them crouched in the middle of the board with two knight pieces positioned so that it appeared as if the horses were being ridden, which could only be achieved by enlisting an amused mother who volunteered to take the picture.

"Over there," Steve directed, interrupting their walk to the IMAGINE memorial.

"Oh, no way," breathed Becca.

Steve had managed to spot a couple in matching blue jogging outfits, and one of them was holding a chocolate lab on a leash. That was two requirements in one. The couple was taking a water break, so Steve and Becca hurried over before they took off.

"Hi. Sorry to bother you," said Becca, praying the couple was friendly. "But we're doing a scavenger hunt. Would you mind if we took a group picture with you guys and your dog?"

The couple glanced at each other, and both of them shrugged almost in unison.

"Sure," the man said. "Come here, Lukas."

He patted the bench, and the dog jumped up onto it. Lukas sniffed at Steve's stretched out hand and tilted his head to be scratched.

"Cute dog," Becca complimented, patting the dog's side while Steve scratched behind his ears. "But we're on a schedule, so if we could maybe all squish."

With Steve and Becca on one side of Lukas and the couple on the other, they were able to get everyone in the frame of the camera.

"Good luck," the woman offered after Becca inspected the picture to make sure it looked okay.

"Thanks," said Steve.

"Yeah, thanks," Becca added.

"How much time?" Steve questioned, continuing down the path.

Becca checked. "Twenty-five minutes."

Getting a shot of the IMAGINE memorial took longer than excepted, but it was on the ground and hard to get when there was a crowd of people around it. Steve and Becca were speed walking on their way to the lake, and Becca was beginning to feel the pressure. Thankfully, there were a whole lot of ducks right in plain sight. A family was feeding a group of the ducks, and they snagged a picture there with a bunch of them waddling around in the background.

"All we're missing is the kite," said Steve, handing Becca the list. It joined the envelope in her purse.

Becca couldn't remember seen a single kite, even when they passed one of the meadows, but maybe someone would be flying one now.

"We should check back in the meadow," she proposed.

They hurried back across the park, moving at almost a jog. Becca checked her watch as they went.

"Time?" Steve asked when she pushed her sleeve back down.

"Just over ten minutes."

At the edge of the meadow, they came to a stop. Becca surveyed the open space. There were plenty of people, but no one was flying a kite. She let out an irritated sound. They were going to lose because of one stupid kite? So not fair. If only there had been some more wind. Of all the days.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to tell them –" Becca turned and noticed Steve jogging away. She hastened after him. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To get a kite," he answered.

"What? Where?"

Steve pointed. Her eyes darted around looking for someone holding a kite or a vendor selling them. Then, she saw the flash of bright red in one of the tall trees at the edge of the meadow. Becca squinted at it. The red shape looked a lot like a kite.

"What are you going to do? Climb up and get it?" she asked incredulously.

"Yup."

"Oh, hell no you're not. Even if you could get that bottom branch, one of those branches is bound to snap. You're not exactly tiny, you know."

"That's why you're going up."

"What?" she squeaked, darting a step away from him and nearly stumbling.

Steve glanced at her with a grin. "I'm kidding."

"Ugh, you… You're not going up that tree."

"I thought this was an adventure? Besides –" They came to a stop under the tree. "I've done this before."

Becca stared at him. "Climbed up a giant tree to a get a kite?"

"Well, not exactly." Steve ground his feet into the dirt. "You should take a step back."

The lowest branch had to be at least a foot out of his reach. Becca shook her head but backed up. One jump and he'd figure out he was not making the leap. After a moment of concentration, Steve ran forward, jumped… and grabbed the branch.

"Holy shit," she murmured. Maybe she'd overestimated how high up the branch was, but that was still quite a jump. Steve grunted as he pulled himself up. Becca circled underneath him. Even though he'd made it, he could fall out of the tree if his foot slipped or a branched cracked.

"All right Mr. Competitive, you've proved your point. You can come down now."

"It'll just take a second," he said, already reaching for the next branch.

"You know, I don't think anyone's supposed to climb the trees." When he didn't answer, Becca folded her arms. "If you fall out of this tree, you're walking yourself to the hospital," she grumbled, but continued to watch him anxiously.

As Steve scaled the branches, her stomach felt like it was growing tighter and tighter. She swallowed hard. What was she going to do if he actually did fall? It wasn't like she had strong enough arms to catch him. She was the one who suggested this scavenger hunt in the first place, and yeah she really wanted to finish it in the time allotment, but not if that meant anyone got hurt. She chewed her bottom lip.

"Got it!"

"Good job," she called. "Just be careful on your way down."

Maybe Steve thought he was being careful on his way down, but he was also moving faster, letting himself fall between branches. Any time a branch creaked, Becca winced. Finally, Steve leapt off the last branch.

Becca gasped as he landed. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Steve said like he hadn't just jumped nine feet through the air. "Come on. Let's get a picture of this."

"Oh, yeah sure," Becca muttered while Steve began running with the kite. She held up her phone, ready to take a picture. "I just jump out of trees all the time, too. No big deal."

The kite was obviously not thrilled with the gentle breeze, but Steve managed to get it up in the air long enough for Becca to snap a picture of it.

"We're good!" she yelled. "Let's go!"

Becca set off at a sprint in the direction of the kiosk, glad she had worn her sneakers. Steve ran after her with the kite clutched in his hand. At least, he started by running after her. It didn't take long for him to catch up and then pass her. He didn't get that much farther ahead though. After a few times of nearly closing the distance between them, she realized that Steve kept slowing down for her. She was holding him back. Becca made an attempt to speed up.

"How much time?" he asked having slowed down enough that they were side by side.

Becca checked her watch. "Three minutes," she panted. And her lungs were burning, her sides were twinging, and her calves were protesting. "You go." She thrust her phone out towards him. "I'll…" She took a gulp of air. "…catch up."

Steve shook his head. "We're doing this together."

"Then we're not gonna make it." That was almost a relief at this point because while it meant they had nearly won, which sucked because they were so close, she could slow down and catch her breath. Possibly she could collapse on the ground.

"Yes we are," Steve insisted with a determined expression.

Becca groaned. "Not unless you're going to carry me the rest of-" She cut off on a squeal as Steve scooped her up.

Instinctively, Becca threw her arms around his neck, but quickly realized that, apart from bouncing every time Steve took a step, she felt pretty secure. This guy had some serious muscle. Sure, she knew that from him being able to climb up that tree, but she wasn't the lightest girl out there and he was running to boot. It was kinda hot. Then, she noticed how fast they were moving.

"Are you a freakin' Olympian in your spare time?" she asked. Steve didn't answer. He was probably concentrating on not running into anyone as they hurtled down the path.

Jesus. She'd had no idea exactly how much she'd been holding him back. It seemed like every time she trying to focus on someone, they blurred and passed by. If Steve wasn't trying out for the Olympics, he should be. He had told her he was on leave from the army, but Becca was surprised they weren't inventing excuses to get him to stay. Hell, she would have.

When the kiosk was close, Steve decelerated enough to set her on the ground, and they took the last few yards at a sprint. Becca nearly slammed into the kiosk when she stopped, and Charlie gaped at her with wide eyes. She slapped her phone down on the table.

"I think we made it," she gasped. Just as she was pushing the sleeve of her sweater back, her watch beeped. "Yes! Yes!" She threw one arm around Steve and leaned into him in a brief half-hug. "This was all you, and I don't even know how you're not collapsed and panting right now." Seriously, Steve looked like he'd hardly broken a sweat, and he had the biggest grin she'd seen.

Steve shrugged. "I've carried much heavier." He lifted a hand and held above her waist for a moment, but then he dropped it as if he wasn't sure of the movement.

Becca squeezed him slightly and let go, feeling giddy. Maybe she did want to win this more than she had admitted. "This guy. Carries me all the way here because I'm slow, and still makes me feel good about myself." She realized that Charlie was continuing to stare at them. "Right, we're not crazy we swear." Becca patted down her hair, which was definitely a mess. "Just a little over excited."

At that, Charlie relaxed and laughed. "I guess so. I haven't seen anyone come to the finish line quite like that before. Let's get everything checked over, shall we?"

Becca took out the envelope and list first. With those laid out, she scrolled through the pictures on her phone. Charlie added a check mark next to every requirement on the list. When that was finished, he swept up the paper.

"Looks like it all checks out. Congratulations, you two," applauded Charlie.

He pulled out a certificate printed with gold lettering. The certificate stated that they had completed the scavenger hunt and were now "scavenger hunt champions." Becca could swear was more pumped about seeing this sheet of paper than her college diploma, and she wasn't even ashamed about it. Charlie copied over Becca's name from the envelope in neat print.

"And your name, sir?" he asked.

"Steve Rogers."

There was a pause, and Charlie glanced up from the certificate. He peered at Steve's face closely. Becca glanced at Steve, too, but she had no clue what was making Charlie look at him like that. Steven suddenly seemed tense, and Becca felt strangely like she was missing something.

"Sorry." Charlie shook his head and wrote down Steve's name. "You just looked like a guy in… well, it doesn't matter." He stamped the certificate and held it out. "You two have a good day now."

Becca took the certificate. "Thanks. You, too." She spun around, examining their names while they walked away. "That was weird, huh?" she noted once they were out of ear shot.

"Mmm."

His reply sounded so distant that it tore Becca away from the certificate. Steve turned the kite between his fingers as he walked. He'd been so happy only a minute ago. Where had that Steve gone?

"Hey." Becca touched his arm, causing him to start. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, fine."

Her eyes narrowed. "Sure?"

Steve nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay," Becca said, deciding to drop whatever it was. However, she wanted to help him out somehow, so she held up the certificate. "You should have this."

"Oh no. Your idea, you earned it," he protested.

"But we wouldn't have gotten this if you hadn't been all macho and scaled a tree and carried me back," she countered.

"Which I only did because someone was a little slow."

"But I – hey!" Becca bumped Steve with her shoulder. His frown flatted into an attempt to contain a smile. "Rude."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll accept that apology if you take this." She waved the certificate at him. "Hang it on your fridge or something. It's basically a major award. Actually, forget the fridge. You should totally frame it, and put it right above your door." That got a chuckle, so she held the certificate aloft. "Please?"

"All right," he agreed, taking the certificate.

"You could keep it with the kite," she suggested.

"Actually, I think I'm going to leave the kite." Steve nodded over to an empty bench. "Some kid will find it, and I'm sure they'll use it much more than I will. Hang on." He headed for the bench while Becca waited.

That was sweet of him. He was sweet, funny, nice, good looking. Basically, Steve was everything she wanted in a guy. When they'd been at Black Ice, she'd been optimistic after the chance had come up to let him know that she was single. The way he sounded when he said he didn't have a girlfriend though, it sounded like someone who'd been through a rough break up or something. That tone was enough to let her know that she needed to back off, which was disappointing, but hey, she liked him too much to disappear so she'd suggested they be friends. She wasn't regretting that decision. Today had been a lot of fun. Yet, she was hoping that if they hung out for a while, maybe Steve might notice her as something more than a friend. Maybe.

Becca rubbed at a spot between her shoulder blades right along her spine. She grit her teeth as pain spiked beneath her hand. She checked to make sure Steve was focused on setting the kite on the bench so it wouldn't blow away. Sure that his back was turned to her, she pulled two medication bottles out of her purse. Damn car accident. She shook out two tablets and took them with water from the bottle she was also carrying. Everything was back in her purse by the time Steve was done.

"I'm sure you've just made some kid very happy," she stated.

"As long as it stays there. Otherwise, I'm just giving another tree the kite back."

"I'm sure the tree will be very happy, too."

They headed up the Mall, back towards the subway station. Becca couldn't wait to get into a shower and rinse off all the sweat. Plus, it'd feel good to get off her feet. She jogged for exercise, but that did not prepare her for attempting to run full tilt.

"Can I walk you back this time?"

Becca shook her head. And a gentleman, she had forgotten to add that to the list.

"Yes, now that I know you're not some creepy psycho killer, you can walk me back," she agreed.

His eyebrows rose. "That's the impression I gave you last time?"

"You can never tell," said Becca, taking his arm. "But you passed the test. Congratulations."

"Do I get a certificate for that, too? 'Not a creepy psycho killer.' I can put it up right next to this one." Steve gestured to the certificate in his hand.

"I'll work on it, and you –" She tapped his shoulder. "– can work on coming up with the next adventure."

"All right. Hey." He stopped walking. "You wanted to go on the carousel."

"Oh yeah." In all the excitement, Becca had completely forgotten. She was torn between wanting a shower and taking a ride. "That's okay. We don't have to."

Steve read right between the lines. "But you want to. Come on."

Becca considered arguing, but she also thought a ride would be a lot of fun. It wouldn't take all that long now that they weren't on the clock. She pictured him sitting on one of the horses. He was going to make it look like a pony. Becca grinned and decided she definitely had to see that.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**As this is the first chapter taking place in a real NYC location, I'd like to note that my experience in this city is limited to a day trip every other year or so. If a place in NYC is recognizable, I've done some research, but I may tweak or fabricate parts (this puzzle booth does not really exist, for example).**

**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to the rest! See you for next week's update, and thanks for all your support. **


	4. We Can Try

Leggings or skirt with tights? Becca held out both of them, raising one and then the other as if weighing them. This would be way easier to decide if she knew where they were going. Of course, since she hadn't told Steve they were going on a scavenger hunt, he wasn't telling her where they were going now that he got to choose. All that she knew was it required him picking her up, so she assumed the place wasn't reachable by subway. Becca liked surprises, but she didn't like being underprepared for them.

She wished she had thought to ask when he called her. Well, she could still text him and ask. Actually, calling might be better. He seemed to have an aversion to texting or something along those lines.

"The skirt's cute," Ally offered, poking her head through the bedroom door.

"I know, but the leggings are probably safer," Becca countered, voicing the argument she'd been having with herself. "If it's anything like last time, at least."

Ally leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. "The skirt's still cuter. Besides, worst case scenario, you give adventure man a peek up your skirt." She winked. "Maybe he'll see something he likes."

Becca rolled her eyes. "Thanks. That doesn't sound even a little bit desperate."

That did it. She was definitely _not_ wearing the skirt. Becca tossed the leggings onto her bed and returned the skirt to its clothing hanger.

"You know, you still haven't shown me those pictures," Ally pointed out.

"Oh yeah."

Becca had promised to show Ally pictures from scavenger hunt to satisfy her roommate's curiosity, only she'd been in the middle of making dinner at the time. Flour and cell phones were not a good mix, and afterwards Becca had plain forgotten. Ally, however, was not one to let things go, especially not when it came to men.

Becca swiped her phone off of her bed and pulled up the pictures. Had that been just last week? It was so sunny and nice, while today was cool and overcast.

"Here." She pressed the phone into Ally's hand and returned to the closet to choose something to go with the leggings. Maybe a light sweater.

"Uh…wow," Ally murmured.

"I know."

"He's hot."

"I know."

"I mean, you said he was hot, but I was thinking medium hot not, like…" Ally flipped through a few of the pictures. "Super mega hot. You should take the skirt back out because this –" She waved the phone. "– needs to happen."

Becca pulled out a sweater that was comfortable to move in and wouldn't make her too warm. She didn't need her roommate to tell her how good looking Steve was because that only reminded her of the disappointing fact that he was not currently interested. She tugged on the sleeve of the sweater, glancing up at the skirt. Maybe…

No. She didn't need the skirt. She could be friends without needing to push any farther. Besides, they'd only seen each other a few times. It didn't hurt to get to know someone better first. That was a mistake she'd made before.

Becca shut the closet door. And she could be just friends with someone even if that someone was an attractive guy. It wasn't fair to assume they had to take an interest. She had fun with Steve. That could be enough. For now.

"I told you. We're friends."

Ally made a disapproving noise. "Well, you'd better not just be 'friends' for long because this guy is going to get snapped up. Speaking of which, Danny is coming over in a bit so text me before you come home."

Danny was Ally's not-quite boyfriend that she'd been dating for nearly a month. Becca liked him fine, but she wrinkled up her nose in mock disgust.

"Gross. You'd better not get make out cooties all over the couch," she joked.

"Oh, and who was the one I found making out on the kitchen counter with their boyfriend?" Ally laughed.

Becca held up her hands. "At least I knew the counter was going to get cleaned. Who knows what's all over that couch?"

"Well, I tell you what's gonna be." Ally grinned suggestively. "Lots and lots of cooties."

"Ugh, yuck," said Becca with an exaggerated shudder. "Okay, get your dirty mind out. I've got to change."

Ally held out the phone for Becca to take back and left, calling, "Wear the skirt!" as the door shut behind her.

Becca ignored that advice and changed from her pajamas into the clothing she'd picked out. She put her hair up in a ponytail because the humidity that came with impending rain always made her hair puff up like an angry cat. With some hairspray, at least it looked less unruly.

The last thing Becca reached for were her meds. She didn't want a pain flare up again while she was out. Not only were the flare ups unpleasant, but she might also have to explain to Steve about the compressed and damaged nerves in her spine from the accident.

People got antsy and overprotective when it came to spinal damage of any kind. They questioned whether it was a good idea for her to do this or that. They asked if she was _sure_ she'd be okay. They gave her sympathetic looks when she had to take a pill for the pain. It drove her up a wall.

Maybe Steve would be an exception if she told him, like Ally had been. Maybe he knew someone who'd been injured in the army and knew that she'd preferred to be treated that same as he had been doing thus far. However, she would rather not take the chance, for a while at least. Being with someone who had absolutely no idea about any of this was refreshing and considerably less complicated.

She wasn't a cripple. She had to take Oxycodone to make it through the day. She had a tolerance from taking the pain medication as a kid after knee surgery, so the doctor had to continually up her dosage. But the medication was helping her manage the pain, and without them the pain was so bad she could do little more than lay on a bed.

The worst problem, in Becca's opinion, had been that when she had started taking the tablets, she hadn't wanted to do much more than that anyway. She'd felt like her brain was fogged up, and she'd lashed out, and she… she hadn't loved who she was. Knowing that she was going to need the pain meds for months, she had looked for help. What she'd found was Adderall.

Before taking an Oxy tablet out of the bottle, she habitually checked the label.

_Take 1/2 to 1 tablet every 4 to 6 hours as needed for pain. _

When was the last time she'd taken one? Becca checked her watch, but that didn't help her to remember. She didn't think it had been four hours. Well, it had to be about three hours, right? She set down the bottle and put in earrings. Probably a little more than three hours. In fact, she was almost positive it had to be about three and a half, and surely taking just one tablet a bit early couldn't be lethal. Then she wouldn't have to worry about taking another one until she got back.

Becca decided that was sound enough reasoning, so she took out a tablet from each bottle. She went to the bathroom so that she could have a glass of water to swallow with the tablet. With that taken care of, she peered at her reflection, rubbing one eyelid carefully to get rid of some smeared eyeliner. All that was left was to brush her teeth and then she'd be ready to go.

The buzzer to the apartment sounded while Becca still had a mouth full of toothpaste. She spat it quickly into the sink.

"Tell him I'll be out in a second!" she yelled down the hall.

She rinsed out her mouth, praying that Ally wasn't adding anything embarrassing to that statement. The thought spurred her to grab her purse from her bedroom at a sprint and hurry for the door, snatching her jacket off the coat rack in case it rained.

"Have fun," Ally said, her finger still resting on the intercom button.

"You too," Becca replied.

Instead of hurtling down the two flights of stairs, Becca took them at a normal pace to avoid the catastrophe of tripping. She found Steve waiting right outside the door, leaning against the railing.

"Hi," she greeted.

"Hi."

There was an amusement in this expression that immediately made her suspect that Ally had said something. Great.

"All right, you might as well tell me what she said."

Steve shrugged. "Just that you'd be right down," he stated in a tone that wsn't at all convincing.

Becca narrowed her eyes at his retreating back, but followed him down the steps and onto the sidewalk. She was going to have to give Ally a serious jab in the ribs if she'd said anything embarrassing. Her roommate was not the best at being subtle. Becca wasn't usually either, except when being candid was sure to make things very awkward.

"So do I get a hint where we're going?" Becca asked, hoping to take his mind off whatever her roommate had gone and said. Steve shook his head. "Aw, come on." She nudged him with her shoulder, certain she could weasel something out of him. "I told you we were going to be in Central Park."

Steve gave her a considering look. "All right…" Ha, she knew it. Easy as pie. "It's not in Central Park."

Not so easy after all.

"That narrows it down," Becca huffed, but then gave him a smile. "It's all right. I can be surprised. As long as it's a good adventure, I'm in."

"Well, I wouldn't be 'Adventure Man' if it wasn't."

Oh, so _that's _what Ally had said. It could have been a whole lot worse.

"I'll have you know that I had nothing to do with that nickname," she told him with a laugh.

"No?"

"No. See I suggested 'Giant-Competitive-Artistic-And-Occasionally-Sassy-Muscle-Man,' but it was shot down."

Steve chuckled. "It is kinda long." He stopped in front of a taken parking space.

This street was resident parking only, and as long as it wasn't the middle of the night there was usually one empty spot to be found somewhere for brief parking without getting a ticket. That's why Becca had been eyeing all the cars they passed waiting for him to stop.

She hadn't expected the motorcycle. Steve hadn't struck her as someone who rode motorcycles, but all she had to go off of was the stereotype of biker dudes and hunky Europeans. The motorcycle was on the thinner side with large handlebars and a single huge headlight about twice the size of Becca's fist. Her knowledge of motorcycles was next to non-existent, but she knew this one was neither a sports model nor biker gang material. If anything it was giving her James Dean vibes. Well, Steve did have the brown leather jacket to go with it. His hair was long enough, if he sort of waved it back and traded in the kakis for jeans… Except he was missing the bad boy attitude. Ah well, bad boys in real life were jerks more often than not anyway. She would take a man with a motorcycle minus the attitude no problem.

"You haven't been on a motorcycle," Steve noted as Becca continued to stare.

Becca shook her head. "Never, but I'm actually pretty excited." She wouldn't ever try to drive one herself, but she was definitely up for a ride. Only… "Um, am I gonna fit?"

The seat didn't look long enough to fit two people. She guessed that one person could fit on it comfortably with an inch or so to spare, but not much more. There was a little more of the motorcycle behind the seat, which was plain metal framing as far as she could tell, and then there was the wheel cover behind that. She was fairly sure no one was supposed to sit on the wheel cover.

Steve looked at the motorcycle like he was seeing it for the first time.

"The last one I had was… a little different," he said, sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't –"

"No, it's okay." Becca looked up from the motorcycle and smiled at Steve. Although she was finding it rather funny that he hadn't even noticed the length of the seat, she decided it wouldn't be nice to make him feel bad. "Lucky for you, I'm fairly compact. Tell you what. We'll try to squish, and if that doesn't work, we'll figure something else out."

Steve touched the back of the motorcycle, thinking. "All right," he agreed after a moment.

"Awesome. And maybe next time consider if two people can fit on a bike before you buy it just 'cause the classic look makes you drool," she teased lightly.

"Yeah."

Steve got on the motorcycle first, putting up the kickstand. As Becca had predicted, there wasn't enough room left on the seat for her to sit. He scooted forward some, but since the metal in front of the seat slanted up at a sharp angle, he could only create a smidge of extra room. Nonetheless, Becca got on behind him, hopping precariously on one foot as she swung her leg over before perching on the back of the seat. She wriggled as close to Steve as she could, pressing up against his back.

"You all right?" Steve asked when she stopped moving.

"Well, I don't feel like I'm going to fall off, so that's good." Of course, she wasn't exactly comfortable. There was an edge between the leather seat and metal plate behind it that was jutting out and pressing against her butt. However, as long as the ride wasn't super long, she thought she'd be okay. Becca checked behind her. "And I'm not sitting on the cover over the wheels."

"Also good."

"Yes." Becca shifted slightly and decided this was as good as it was going to get. "What do you want me to do with my feet?"

"Uh…" He looked down at the footrests, of which there were only two, made of narrow, cylindrical metal.

Becca lifted a foot experimentally. She knew he had to be able to take his feet off the footrests when they stopped, so she placed the tip of her shoe close to the rest of the motorcycle. That would allow him to rest on the outer part of the footrests and take his feet off when they came to a stop. If she kept her foot pivoted at an upwards angle and with the metal holding her foot up right beneath her toes, she wasn't taking up too much space. Plus, she didn't feel like her foot was going to slip.

"That," Steve said. "That's fine."

Becca set her other foot in the same manner, pleased that she had figured this out. She wrapped her arms above Steve's waist to keep herself in place, keeping her head turned to the left because otherwise it would have to be jammed right into his back. This wasn't so bad.

"Okay, I'm ready if you are," she stated.

When the motorcycle rumbled, the vibrations running up her body, her stomach twisted both in nerves and exhilaration. First time on a motorcycle. She really hoped that Steve knew what he was doing, and her being on back wasn't going to throw him off. If she got into another accident, she was going to be seriously put out. Oh god, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

"Let me know if you need me to stop," Steve told her.

"Okay."

Steve picked up his feet, and the motorcycle rolled forward. Becca instinctively tightened her hold around him, feeling momentarily unbalanced. Once they started moving down the street at a steady pace, however, nerves were giving away to adrenaline, and she forgot all about why this would be a bad idea. A grin crept over her lips.

"How're you feeling?" Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder at her when they came to a red light at the end of the street.

How was she feeling when on a motorcycle with a hot guy in a leather jacket? "Like a badass."

"That's… good," Steve said, although he didn't look totally certain.

"Are we gonna be hitting the highway?"

"For little while."

"Good. Let's open this baby up." At least, she was pretty sure that was the phrase for going really fast.

Whether that was correct or not, Steve grinned. "Hold on."

The light turned green and, having no cars immediately in front of him, he gunned the motorcycle around a turn. Becca gasped as they tilted, burying her head against his shoulder and clinging to him as her stomach attempted to take a flying leapt through her chest. As soon as they straightened, she lifted her head.

"I meant on the highway, you jerk," she chided. Yet, as the words came out of her mouth, she knew that she wanted to do that all over again.

Steve must have seen that when he caught her expression in the rearview mirrors because all he said was, "Did you? I must have missed that over the sound of me 'opening this baby up.'"

Since he was driving, Becca resisted the urge poke him. "Oh, hush up, and let's do it again."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

><p>The drive took about thirty minutes once they were out of New York City. It should have taken longer, but since Steve hadn't yet driven far enough to escape the traffic, he took the chance to put on some speed. Besides, from the few glimpses he got when her head wasn't tucked behind his back, Becca really lit up when he pressed the throttle and they went racing by a few cars. He thought he'd made a mistake when she first stared at his motorcycle with her expression unusually blank, but if she was at all nervous in the beginning, she clearly wasn't anymore.<p>

They were a ways north of the city when he finally pulled off of the highway, navigating through a series of smaller streets to reach Mt. Chambers. He turned into the parking lot and in the second after he turned off his motorcycle, he just looked.

When he'd been trying to decide where to go, somewhere Becca would be impressed with or at least like, Steve spent a long while staring at a computer unsure of what to search for. Knowing that she liked ice cream and games wasn't a whole lot to go off, and he didn't feel caught up enough to try and connect those interests with something modern.

Steve had thought of a few places as he stared at the computer, but they were places he was sure wouldn't exist anymore. He could have found out, but walking around the city was enough to tell him that too much had changed. Each building replaced with metal and shining lights gave him a brief sinking feeling. Places that were connected with specific memories or people he'd known, those Steve avoided outright. S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him a box of files, but while the box had been opened, the files were still untouched. He hadn't felt ready to know if his friends were dead or if the building he'd grown up in was gone. He also knew that he had to start sometime because he might never be ready.

This was a chance. He'd picked the mountain because it was something he assumed wouldn't have changed much and it was a place connected with only a single memory. When he was a kid, he came here for a picnic with his mother. Since he'd already dealt with losing Ma, coming back wouldn't feel like losing her all over again.

Yet, as Steve surveyed the area, he took in the larger parking lot, the cement where there had once been dirt, the glinting cars, the metal picnic tables, and the tall fence that had been put up by the entrance. It was all different. He got that sinking feeling like someone was pressing against his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Okay, obviously you like the motorcycle, and I have to say I can't blame you, but since we drove all this way maybe we should take a look around?"

Of course, another reason to come today was that Becca's enthusiasm and good-natured ribbing wasn't going to allow him wallow in much of anything for long. She may be a little erratic at times, but he could use the distraction.

Steve got off the motorcycle, having been so caught up that he hadn't even noticed when Becca slipped off. Becca was looking eagerly to the fence, leaning forward like a dog straining at an invisible leash. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed pink from the ride despite him blocking most of the wind.

"All right. Let's go," Steve said.

At least the mountain couldn't be that different, and he was strong enough this time to do some hiking. Although his mother had wanted to take him places outside of the city once and a while, she was always strict due to his long list of health problems. That hadn't stopped him from wanting to try things though, which was why as they neared the path to go up the mountain, Steve stopped.

"What?" Becca asked.

"The path is in the wrong place."

Steve had spent a lot of that picnic, sneaking glances at the other kids heading up the mountain with their families. Assuming they hadn't moved the picnic area, parking lot, and the street, which was possible but unlikely, then it was the path that had been moved.

"Um…" Becca pursed her lips skeptically. "This path looks pretty worn. I don't think they generally move them."

The path might be open and well traveled, but it was on the wrong side of all the picnic benches and parking lot. He crossed along the edge of the picnic area.

"The last time I was here was a long time ago," he explained.

"Long enough for them to move a path?"

"Yeah."

Plants had overgrown the space between the trees, but since Steve knew the path had been there, he was able to pick it out. The ground was too even to have been untouched. He pointed to it.

"See?"

Becca tipped her head. "Oh yeah. Huh." She pulled out her cell phone. "I wonder why they moved it."

"Let's find out," Steve suggested.

"Woah there tiger," said Becca even as she followed him towards the path. "I'm all for trying new things, but this could actually be dangerous."

"They'd warn people if it was," he pointed out. There were warning signs and labels everywhere for things now. If there ever had been any danger, it was probably past. "And I thought you wanted an adventure?"

"I see we've resorted to using my own words against me…" Becca sighed. "Smart. Of course, going into the woods alone with a man you've only recently met is Dangerous Things You Should Avoid 101."

While Steve felt as though this was the path he needed to take, he also didn't want Becca feel uncomfortable. She might just be ragging, but in case she wasn't, he should say something.

"We can take the main path," he offered.

Becca studied him, then flung up her hands. "I don't know what it is, but I trust you. Come on. Let's venture into the great wild."

Steve laughed. A small mountain was hardly the "great wild," but at least Becca was keen on taking this path. It might join up with the other path further along, but there was no harm in trying.

"You really don't get out of the city much, do you?" he asked.

"Well, I'm currently lacking in the automobile department," Becca explained, once again focused on her phone. "I visit the family once or twice a year, but it's pretty much all NYC all the time. As much as I love it, sometimes I forget nature isn't dotted with skyscrapers and pigeons."

Not that he would let it happen, but Becca was either going to stumble over a rock or run right into a tree if she wasn't paying attention.

"It doesn't have cell phones either," he stated.

"Tch. It does when I'm getting service, even if it is only a bar." Becca flicked her gaze up for a second to check in front of her. "I was just curious if there was anything online about the path being moved."

Steve tensed, nervous that if there was something online, it was going to been from a year that made Becca question why he knew about this old path at all. He meant to start facing old memories, not tell someone that he'd been out of commission for sixty-seven years. He was going to tell her eventually, if she didn't figure it out on her own first, but this was not the time or place. Maybe she'd take it well, but he wasn't taking the risk of losing the one friend he had today.

"Well, there was a rock slide in fifty-eight when a cliff face broke off," relayed Becca before Steve could think of anything to say. "But that looks like about the only interesting thing to have happened, so who knows?" She put the phone back in her purse. "It could be anything."

Relief eased away Steve's nerves. She wasn't going to look into it any further.

"Yeah."

They continued up the path, avoiding any large plants that had grown over what had once been beaten down dirt. With the height of some of the plants, Steve thought Becca might wonder, but she didn't say a thing. She seemed too caught up in gazing around through all the trees and making sure to hop onto every tree root that was even remotely in their way to take much notice. For his part, Steve was enjoying being somewhere that didn't feel new or hectic, while also keeping an eye out anything that would cause them to have to turn around.

"Maybe there was a den of mountain lions up here," Becca voiced after some time, peeling off her jacket and tying it around her waist.

Steve lifted a low-hanging branch so they could both duck under it. "I think mountain lions prefer bigger mountains."

"Okay, Bigfoot then."

"What?"

"Maybe Bigfoot lives up here, and they closed it off so people wouldn't find out." Steve was still trying to work out if Bigfoot was a person or an animal when Becca snapped her fingers. "I've got it. It's like _The Descent_. Have you seen that movie?"

Hoping that he wasn't digging a hole for himself, Steve answered, "No."

"Well, I'd recommend it, but anyway, in _The Descent_ there's a group of women who go spelunking in this huge cave system and get trapped," Becca explained. "Most of them get eaten by these creepy humanoid creatures that live in the caves, but there is an exit that's on a mountain. Maybe it's based on this mountain right here."

The smile she flashed him was just on the verge of hopeful. Steve almost doubted whether she'd ever been worried that this path might be dangerous. Also, he was going to remember to check on what any movie she suggested was about before he watched it.

"Well, there goes the next trip I had planned," he commented causing Becca to giggle.

"Not so fast now. You're definitely stronger and can run faster. You could probably take a bunch of those things out and make it," Becca mused. She leapt up onto a tree root, following it to the trunk.

"What about you?"

Becca looked at him like he'd asked a ridiculous question. "I'm going to tease them to death, obviously."

Steve imagined Becca in the middle of a cave with a smile on her face teasing a figure with big fangs crouched uncertainly in front of her. He shook his head.

"And if that doesn't work?" he laughed.

Becca shrugged. "Um… hit 'em with a rock?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They had to step off the path as a dense thicket of brambles had crept up over the ground. Since the end wasn't even out of his sightline, Steve was sure they could quickly get around it. However, there was a lot of gray through the trees up ahead that reminded him of the broken cliff Becca had mentioned.

"Hey, speaking of rocks…" Becca commented, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

"I see it," said Steve.

It was the rock slide from that cliff that had caused the path to be cut off. At least, that's what Steve concluded as he surveyed the massive breadth of jagged rocks piled across the mountainside. A few of the fallen trees were rotting on the ground, half buried under boulders.

Becca perched on the flat surface of one of the rocks, letting out a breath that sounded closer to a pant. She took out a bottle of water and, after a gulp, held it out to him.

"I'm all right. Thanks."

A split second assessment of the area told Steve that they weren't going to make it over this. Even if he could figure out a way, it wasn't likely to be a method Becca could follow. He should have stuck to the main path.

"Looks like a dead end," he noted. "Sorry I made you walk all this way."

Becca lowered the bottle with a frown. "What? We're going to give up already? We just got here."

"They did move the path for a reason."

"Tch." Becca nodded over the mass of rocks. "Look around. There might be something."

To humor her, Steve peered up at the cliff, attempting to figure out a way up. The crevasses in the cliff face above him were too small for handholds. Even if they weren't, he had to get Becca up, too. He didn't think much of his chances of convincing her that he could carry her up on his back.

"How do you feel about scaling a cliff?" he invited anyway.

Becca gave him a look that made it clear she didn't think he was trying. "Next option, please."

Steve walked away along the jumble of rocks. Further along the cliff had shorn away a chunk of the mountainside, creating a sharp drop. No way around on this end.

"I might be able to throw you up if you think you can catch the edge," he joked.

"Then, how are you getting up?"

Steve craned his neck to look at the closest trees.

"If you're thinking about climbing those and jumping, forget it," Becca called to him. "This is not an awkward teen movie, and we're not doing it."

"Where's that trust you were talking about?" he replied, although he had no intention of following through.

"I hit it with a shovel and am burying it beneath a layer of sanity."

Steve moved back over to where Becca was waiting. She'd pushed her sweater up to her elbows and had her legs lifted to stretch down to her toes. Her skin was tinged a warm pink with sweat beading her should have at least let her know that today was going to involve a lot of walking. He just hadn't thought the path would be quite so steep, and she'd seemed to like the idea of keeping things a surprise. If Becca had needed a break, he thought she would ask. She'd been vocal about so much else. He should have known better. How many times had he pushed himself to do things he physically shouldn't?

"I really don't think there's a way around," Steve said. It was more important to get her back down than determine how to make it the rest of the way up.

Becca lifted her arm, pointing in the direction he'd yet to check. "What about over there?"

"If there was a way over there, then they just would have moved the path there instead," he reasoned.

Becca narrowed her eyes at him. "We're checking." She hopped off the rock, striding towards the line of trees with determination.

"Becca, wait." Steve hurriedly caught up and stepped in front of her. "I think–"

"Steve," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "You're a nice guy, and I like hanging out with you."

"Okay…" Steve said as she took a deep breath, unsure of what was coming next. "Thanks."

She nodded once. "But if I walked all the way up here in a sweater and flats and don't reach the top, I might freak out."

Steve wasn't exactly sure what "freak out" meant, but he was sure from her tone that it wasn't good. Even though he didn't want to upset her, he also didn't want her collapsing.

"We'll check," he conceded. "If you promise to tell me when you need a break."

"I…" Becca lifted her chin, and Steve could read in her expression that she was ready to argue. He wasn't going to back down though. She stared at him hard, her nose wrinkling like a rabbit's. Then, all at once, she let out a sigh and her face softened. "Okay. That's fair."

The reason for not making a new path that cut around was the sheer steepness of the slope on the other side of the cliff. The climb wasn't impossible, but it wouldn't be for kids and their anxious parents or the average hiker.

"If we sort of go diagonally between the trees, we should be able to make it," Becca proposed.

There were a bunch of trees dotting the slope, thin, but strong enough to hold on to. If she needed a break, Becca could rest on one of those. Even so, he considered arguing the point.

"We can try," she pressed.

Steve looked at her, and she gave him an encouraging smile. She really did have a very pretty smile. What convinced him though was the resolute caste of her eyes.

"We can try," he agreed. And he would pick Becca up and carry her back down the mountain with her yelling at him all the way if he thought she was pushing herself too much.

The dirt on the slope was loose, and Steve had to dig in his heels and angle his feet to keep from sliding. Becca was faring worse, and he had the impression that her shoes were the reason since they didn't look too sturdy. They progressed slowly as he was lagging in case Becca needed help. She moved with assurance between the trees despite the unsound footing, resting a few seconds at each one, most likely to show him that she was willing to take small breaks.

About two-thirds of the way up, Becca lost her traction and skidded a couple of inches. It would have been more if Steve hadn't reached out and grabbed her hand. He guided her over to a tree, which she leaned against, breathing hard.

"Maybe we should go back down," he suggested.

Becca shook her head. "We're almost there."

"Why does this matter so much to you?"

"Well, didn't going up this path matter to you?" she replied, but there was something in the way she said those words that made Steve think she was deflecting the question.

"Why does it matter?" he asked again.

Becca stared down at her feet, biting on the corner her lip. Her hands balled up into fists. Steve had strayed onto something and because he didn't know what it was, he didn't know if he had any right to push her. Maybe he already had. He was about to put a comforting hand on her shoulder when she spoke.

"Because I know I can do it," Becca said in a quiet voice. She lifted her head to peer up at him pleadingly. "I _know_ I can."

Whatever was happening, whatever it was that was getting to her, how could he say no to that?

"I believe you."

This time, Steve made sure Becca was moving first so that he could be behind her in case anything happened. Fortunately, they made it the rest of the way up without too many stumbles, finally coming to more even ground.

Becca plopped down straight away, facing the route they'd taken, and took several slow breaths. Steve sat beside her.

"You okay?" he questioned.

"Yeah. Yeah." Becca ran a hand over her forehead and tucked a strand of hair that was stuck to her cheek back behind her ear. "I'm sorry about that. I just got…" She shrugged a shoulder with an apologetic grimace. "You know."

Steve didn't know, but taking that as a sign that she didn't want to talk about it, he said, "Sure."

They sat in silence for a minute, until Becca nudge him with her shoulder.

"Told you we'd find a way if we checked," she said with a grin.

Relieved for her smile, he returned it. "I don't think that's exactly what you said."

"Sure it is. Now go check over there, and you'll probably pick up the path again." She waved behind them.

Instead of protesting, Steve got up and went to look around and see if he could spot the path, all the while wondering what Becca didn't want to bring up. Unless she said something, he would keep his mouth shut, but he was curious what could make her that desperate. Steve resolved to put those thoughts out of his mind when he found traces of the path leading through a grove of small trees further along, near the cliff. Let her talk when she was ready.

"Over here," he called.

Becca got to her feet, shoving something back into her purse. It was probably her water bottle. Hopefully she had enough left to drink for the way down. That walk would, at least, be easier.

They had followed the path for another ten minutes when they began to hear voices. Another five minutes had them spilling out onto the new path with the other hikers. Not long after that, they reached the top.

"This… this is worth it," stated Becca as she surveyed the green trees below them. "You did good."

Some of the clouds had broken, leaving streams of sunlight that hit the stretches of woods. There was a town amongst the trees, but it was far enough off in the distance that the view was almost uninterrupted.

It was a nice view, and standing here Steve felt a little better than he had in a while. Until Becca groaned.

"What's wrong?" he asked with alarm.

Becca heaved out a sigh. "I'm gonna have to find somewhere even better for the next adventure."

Steve grinned. "Good luck."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**First chapter of 2015! Welcome to the new year everyone. I'd say my resolution is to exercise more, but why do it myself when I can have fictional characters do it for me? That counts right? No? Oh well. **

**For anyone staring at a picture of the motorcycle Steve has in _Avengers_, shhhh. Yes, there is no way Becca would fit on the back of that motorcycle, but I've just fudged with it a bit.**

**On a side note, I'd recommend _The Descent _to any horror movie fan. Horror is my favorite genre, and this movie makes my top five. Do make sure you get the original British version and not the American cut though because, for some reason, they changed the ending when they released it in the US and it's quite lame. **

**Thanks for the continued support. Becca and I shall have to come up with something good for the next adventure. **


	5. Shield Me

The knock on the apartment's front door came while Steve was finishing up dinner. Since there were very few people who knew where he was, Steve had a pretty good idea who was knocking.

Steve set down his fork and went answer the door. Nick Fury was waiting on the other side, mouth set in a grim line.

"Captain Rogers."

The last time Nick had called on him their conversation had escalated into an argument that ended with concessions made on both sides.

When Steve had first woken up, there'd been so much to take in that he'd been completely overwhelmed. Nick had explained about the serum and the ice, about the end of the War, about the creation of S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect the world from potential threats. He offered a place to stay and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to help get Steve adjusted and up to speed.

That was fine. Steve didn't know where he would have stayed otherwise. One sweep of Times Square had been enough to tell him that he'd lost his home. Having agents show him how to work things like modern telephones and the internet was helpful, insuring that he could take steps that would have taken longer on his own time. For days, Steve had stayed in the apartment they had give him, as Nick had suggested, acclimating to the idea that the world as he knew it was gone, building up enough courage to watch the news or read the internet, and trying to decide what he was going to do from here on out.

He didn't know how S.H.I.E.L.D. found out that he decided to go for a walk around the block, but within hours of returning to the apartment, Nick was at his door. The world wasn't ready to know that Captain America was back, Nick had said. Every time Steve went outside, he risked being recognized. If he was getting tired of the apartment, there were secure locations Steve could visit or maybe he would like to take on a mission with a small team of select agents. Steve had protested that a walk wasn't going to blow his cover. As far as the world was concerned, Captain America died a long time ago. And how was he supposed to get "adjusted" to this century if he couldn't go out and see it for himself?

A tense forty minutes later, they had reached an agreement. Steve could go out whenever he wanted with two stipulations. He was to avoid places that he was most likely to be recognized such as his old neighborhood or any memorial connected with the War. He was also to prevent regular, prolonged interactions that were likely to end up disclosing his past. As a show of good faith, he'd been given the motorcycle.

Steve hadn't thought that either of those conditions would turn out to be difficult. The places he felt connected to were the ones he hadn't been ready to face. As to talking to people regularly, well, who was there to talk to that he even saw often enough?

Then, not even a week later, Becca happened. He couldn't even think of it as meeting her because she had come up like an unexpected gust of wind that was pulling him along for the ride.

All right, maybe he had a little more choice than that. Sure, he could have said no when she invited him to get ice cream, but he thought it would be a welcome distraction. Becca wasn't connected to his past in any way, and showed absolutely no signs of attempting to find out much that was personal. He could have left it at that, never giving her a call back, but she had offered to be a friend. S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to want to be friends in the sense that they wanted Steve on their side. However, he wasn't wholly convinced that he could trust them yet. Becca, he could trust. Becca made everything feel… normal. So he called.

Steve was surprised it had taken so long after that call for Nick to come remind him of the agreement they'd made. At least, that's what he assumed this visit was about. He'd half-expected to find Nick waiting outside the apartment when he'd returned from the hike back on Saturday.

"Look, I know we had an agreement," Steve began, moving out of the way so Nick could come in.

"Oh, so you did remember?" Nick slipped past, and Steve shut the door. "And here I'd thought it just slipped your mind."

Steve sighed and gestured for Nick to take a seat on the chair he was already standing next to. Nick took the chair, and Steve sat across from him on the couch.

"She doesn't know who I am."

"She will." Nick leaned forward. "I thought you understood. Information is a lot easier to get these days."

"We already went over this," Steve pointed out, not wanting to go through that particular argument all over again. "No one knows I'm alive."

"Yet. One day she's going to stumble across something about America's first superhero and wonder why the Steve Rogers she knows looks exactly like the one who's Captain America. In my experience, those kinds of things happen a lot earlier than we expect them to."

"When it happens, I'll talk to her."

Nick threaded his fingers together, resting them under his chin. "What makes you think she isn't going to be asking her friends for their opinion first?"

He wasn't wrong. Becca could talk to someone else. If she still had those pictures from the park then that was some pretty good evidence. Even so, he thought most people would chalk it up to coincidence. When she asked him about it, then that was going to be something different.

"I don't think they'll believe her."

"And if she asks you?" Nick questioned.

"Then I'll tell her," Steve stated, folding his arms. "She'll know eventually. I'd rather she heard it from me."

"If you're going to tell her, why wait?"

Steve knew what Nick was doing. He wanted Steve to admit that her knowing was a bad idea, that she might walk away and tell everyone. She might, but she might not. Steve wanted to believe that if he asked her to keep a secret, she would, but her impulsivity made him hesitant. Nor did he want to lose his one friend just because of who he was.

"She won't find out. Not until the right time."

"And when is that?" Nick asked, leaning back against the chair.

"When I say it is."

Steve had the fleeting hope that this was the end of the argument, despite Nick giving him a long, hard look.

"You're really going to compromise all the steps we've taken over one woman?"

Steve gritted his teeth. "Her name is Becca, and even if knowing her was compromising anything it should be my choice."

There was another pause in which Nick seemed to be attempting to bore a hole through Steve with his eye, but Steve wasn't going to back down. Finally, Nick reached into his coat. He pulled out a thin file and tilted it so the front was readable. There were a variety of numbers that didn't mean a thing to Steve, but then there was the name "Rebecca M. Stroud" typed in bold print.

"If you're going to continue seeing this woman, which is a decision I strongly advise against, there are some things you should know about her," Nick stated, placing the file on the table beside him.

"No," said Steve immediately.

Nick's eyebrows rose. "No?"

"No."

Becca wasn't trying to pry into his life. Steve had no right to pry into hers. That would be breaking the trust that she put in him. Maybe she had secrets that S.H.I.E.L.D. had dug up, but Steve didn't want to hear about them from anyone but her. That was only fair.

"Listen." Nick picked up the file again and opened it. "She has –"

"With all due respect, sir," Steve interrupted. "I don't think it's your place to tell me anything about Becca, and I don't want to know any more than what she's willing to tell me."

Nick had stopped flipping through the pages. "This is a lot of trust for a woman you just met."

"I just met you, too," Steve reminded him. "Aren't you expecting me to trust you?"

Nick sighed, a noise accompanied by a creak of the chair as he shifted.

"I'm trying to help you, Cap."

It sounded like he was, but this was the kind of help that Steve would rather not take.

"I understand that, but, like I said, this is my decision."

Nick was silent, but his expression was not pleased. At last, he snapped the file shut.

"Fine. Learn your lesson the hard way."

Nick placed the file on the table, less gently, and got to his feet. Steve stood as well.

"At least pay attention to the speed limits next time," Nick requested. "There are less noticeable ways of impressing a woman."

"I wasn't trying to impress her."

"Uh huh." He tapped the file with a finger. "Think about it."

Steve shook his head. "Take it with you. I won't need it."

Nick ignored him and crossed the room. "We'll be keeping an eye out."

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to use two."

Nick gave him a thin smile. "I hope she's worth it, Cap," he said and left.

This argument had been a lot shorter than the last one, but Steve felt like he'd gained slightly more control over his life. The day was going to come when Becca and the rest of the world, with any luck in that order, would know that he was Captain America, but he still had time to prepare for that. The least he hoped for was that Becca would stick around, so someone would know that he was Steve Rogers, too.

Steve crossed over to the file Nick had left. There had to be something in it that Nick thought was worth mentioning, but while Steve felt a brief flash of curiosity, he wasn't going to open it. He would have thrown the whole thing in the trash, but there could be all kinds of information in the papers. Instead, he took out the box of untouched S.H.I.E.L.D. files and added one more to the pile. When Becca thought he should know, he'd know.

* * *

><p>Becca awoke to a sharp pain at the base of her neck, a feeling like hot fire poker was jabbing up underneath her skin. She groaned, dragging herself up onto her elbows. The alarm clock displayed "5:17" in bright red, and that was going to be the only visible thing in the dark bedroom until her eyes adjusted.<p>

Becca groped above the clock for the switch on her lamp. Her trembling fingers found the switch, and she winced in the sudden brightness. Blinking furiously, she reached for the single tablet of Oxy that she left out as this inevitably occurred once every night. In her haste, she knocked the tablet onto the floor.

"Shit," she whimpered.

Moving carefully, Becca shifted to the edge of the bed. At least the tablet hadn't rolled out of sight. She swiped it off the floor and sat up. She filled her mouth with water from a half-empty bottle, a motion which inevitably led to some spillage on her pajamas since her neck brace made it impossible to tilt her head back even a little, before shoving the tablet into her mouth and swallowing.

Even though it would take a bit for the meds to kick in, Becca felt relief knowing the pain would fade away. Since Oxy made her drowsy, she would also be asleep again soon. She flicked off the light and settled down on her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut, grit her teeth against the pain, and waited for everything to fade.

* * *

><p>What pulled Becca out of sleep the second time was knocking on the front door. She rolled onto her side and ignored the sound. Ally could get it.<p>

When the knocking didn't stop, Becca opened an eye and looked at the clock. 7:02. Ally had already left for work. Fuck. Becca shut her eye again, hoping the person would just go away. Who the fuck was at the door at seven in the morning anyway? She had no desire to get out of bed. All she wanted to do was sleep some more, but after another minute of knocking, frustration snapped inside her.

"I'll be there in a second!" she yelled. Silence. Thank Jesus.

Getting herself up was the hardest battle. Becca felt all hazy and exhausted. As much as seconds ago she wanted the knocking to stop, now that it was quiet, she didn't care anymore. Her body felt heavy, threatening to pull her back down onto the bed while she struggled to sit up. She should go back to sleep. The person would go away. Whatever they wanted, it couldn't be that important.

But that was the Oxy talking, not her. It helped with the pain, but it made her tired and miserable, too. Becca took out the bottle of Adderall and swallowed a tablet to counter that feeling. She'd be back to herself as soon as it started working.

Becca undid the neck brace and dropped it beside her. She had to wear it to bed because two of her vertebrae had fractured during the car accident around where her nerves were damaged. The bones were mostly healed, but the doctor didn't want her sleeping on them. Wearing the brace to bed was at least more tolerable than the first few weeks when she had to wear it around all the time. She'd felt like a dog with a cone over its head.

"All right. You have to get the door," she murmured to herself.

Becca swung her legs over the edge of the bed and heaved herself to her feet. She swayed unsteadily, but a deep breath returned some of the balance. She took a step forward and noticed a piece of paper on the floor in front of her closed bedroom door. She picked it up.

_We got an e-mail from the super. I guess the idiots above us forgot to close their windows during the storm and there might be some water damage. Building inspectors are coming 7 to make sure our ceiling isn't going to collapse on us. Text me if there's a problem._

_Ally _

Becca sighed in frustration. Well, that explained who was at the door. She crumpled the paper and tossed it onto her desk to be thrown away later. She shuffled to the front door, contemplating several choice words she would never actually say to the morons upstairs unless their ceiling really did collapse. It wasn't even warm out yesterday, she remembered as she reached the living room. Why did they even have their windows open? People were so damn baffling sometimes.

There were two people waiting for her, a man and a woman, both middle aged and looking annoying awake. The man had a tool box in one hand while the woman was carrying a clip board. Becca couldn't bring herself to return their small smiles.

"Hi, we're here about the possible water damage," the woman relayed.

"Yeah. Come on in," said Becca, stepping aside. "How much damage do you think there is?"

"Hopefully, none, but we'd rather check and be sure than have the ceiling collapse. That wouldn't be good for anyone." The woman looked down at her clipboard. "Now there are two of you living here?"

"Yeah, but Ally's at work."

The woman wrote something down. "So you would be Miss Stroud?"

"Mhmm."

"All right, Miss Stroud. We're going to ask you to wait outside just to be safe. Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

Becca sighed. "Whatever."

Becca went out into the hallway and sank down next to the door. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her face against her knees, shutting her eyes. She felt annoyed with the inspectors for kicking her out, which she knew was stupid because they were doing their jobs. If the ceiling did fall down, she would be glad to be out of the way. Really it was just the people upstairs that she should be irritated with.

By the time the inspectors were done, Becca had planned the speech she was going to give those morons upstairs if there was any damage to report. However, the speech was not meant to be as there was absolutely no damage, which was the better alternative all things considered. The inspectors got Becca's signature and then left her alone in the apartment once more.

Since there was no way she was getting work done until the Adderall took effect, Becca forced herself to eat breakfast and then curled up on her bed for another hour. Then, she finally had enough energy to outline the advertisement for women's sweaters that was due by the end of the week. She got through the outline and had come up with an eye-catching headline when she realized that she was supposed to meet Steve on the other side of the city in less than twenty minutes.

Despite flinging on some clothes as quickly as possible and sprinting to the subway station, Becca arrived late. She would have texted him if she had service underground, but he might not even had answered. She still wasn't sure what his deal was with texting. She was going to have to remember to ask sometime.

"Hi," Steve greeted her as she reached the top of the subway steps. She thought he seemed a little relieved to see her.

"Hi. I'm so sorry I'm late," Becca apologized. "I was working and lost track of time."

"That's all right. It gave me some time to try and figure out what we're doing here."

"Got a guess?"

Steve pointedly glanced around him at the non-descript buildings and mostly empty street they were walking down.

"Not a one," he confessed.

"Would you like a hint?" Becca offered.

"Sure."

Becca had been stumped over what to do for an adventure this time. As much as she loved her friends, hanging out usually meant going out for lunch or staying in and watching a movie, so she didn't have a ton of ideas. As she'd been searching around on Google, Becca had stumbled across one place that sounded super fun, wasn't that expensive, and, she was crossing her fingers, was a challenge.

"You remember that movie I told you about last time we hung out?"

"Uh…" Steve's forehead wrinkled. "The one with the caves and creatures that ate people?"

"Mhmm. Remember how I said you could probably survive?"

"You know, of all the things I thought I'd be doing today, trying to avoid getting eaten was not one of them."

Becca grinned. "Get ready to try."

Steve stopped and turned back towards the subway. "Maybe I'll-"

"Oh, no." Becca grabbed his arm and pulled him along, not that he was really resisting. "You're not leaving me to face the zombies all on my own."

"Zombies?" he asked with a laugh.

"Well, people probably dressed in raggedy clothes with fake blood, so the closest less dangerous version." Becca shrugged. "I thought if we might actually get eaten that would diminish the fun."

"And here I was excited to see an actual zombie."

"That's next time. We're working our way up remember?"

"Right."

Becca directed him over to a large warehouse. The front had been left with an intentionally run down appearance. There was a glowing sign on the front that said "The Great Z-scape." The sign was the only part that looked new, although the light behind the lettering flickered. Despite the lackluster appearance, this building had been open for going on five years. While most of their business revolved around Halloween, which Becca gathered from reviews she had read, they opened part of the building a few other times throughout the year. This had been her lucky week.

A group of teens burst through the doors, chattering loudly. The last one took a step back to hold the door, which Steve took from him so they could pass through into the lobby. It had the same aesthetic as the building's exterior, only someone had used crimson paint to smear some handprints on the walls. Two doors flanked a receptionist sitting behind a worn desk.

"Welcome to the Great Z-scape," said the receptionist, flashing a smile that was much whiter than the surrounding room. "You must be our four thirty."

"Yes. Sorry we're a little late. That's my fault," Becca apologized.

"That's all right. Our zombies are always willing to wait for a meal." The receptionist gave them a wink while fluffing her cropped hair. "Now are you paying with cash or credit?"

"Credit."

"I've got this one," Steve interjected, taking out his wallet. "You paid last time."

"But this is more than the shakes or the scavenger hunt." Really the cost was only slightly more if she combined them, but still, this place had been her idea.

"That's all right."

"Halfsies?" Becca suggested, but Steve was already holding out cash to the receptionist, who took the bills. Guess she wasn't paying then. It was nice of him to pay for her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"If I could see I.D. from you, miss," the receptionist requested, handing Steve back his change. "Just to check the name." Becca took out her driver's license, so the receptionist could glance over it. "Looks good. The last thing I'm going to need is for you to sign these forms." She set two copies of a form on the top part of the desk next to a cup full of pens. "These forms say that you agree not to touch any of our zombies. It also gives your consent to let our zombies touch you. They will do no more than give you a light tap. I promise our zombies are the gentle kind." Once the forms were signed, she took them back.

"All right you two, just a few things to go over. In a minute, I'm going to let you through that door." The receptionist pointed to a door which had been heavily splattered with the crimson paint and set with several locks. "Each room you go through is going to have a puzzle you need to solve to get to the next room. You'll only have so much time to figure out the puzzles, so you'll want to finish them as quickly as possible.

"Zombies have been broken loose all over the warehouse. If one of them grabs you, I'm afraid that's it for you. However, if your partner hasn't been taken, they can keep going if they choose. You make it out alive, you win. Any questions?" Steve and Becca shook their heads. "Okay, if you want to hang up your jackets, we'll get you started."

The receptionist got up from the desk, and they hung their jackets on a row of empty hooks before following her to the door. She made a show of undoing all the locks and opening the door with a key before gesturing them in.

"Good luck."

The door clicked shut, and Becca could hear the locks being set. She looked around the room, excited to get started. The room seemed pretty normal. There were a few cabinets, small trash bin, desk up against the wall with a swivel chair. It looked kind of like an office really. It hadn't even been splattered with paint like the lobby. This was not what she was expecting. A glance at Steve told her that this wasn't what he was expecting either.

"Check the door?" she suggested.

They crossed the room to the door on the other side. This door had a keypad, so the goal must be to figure out the code to open it.

"There's got to be a code around here somewhere."

Steve nodded. "It's probably too easy, but we should check the desk." Then, the lights went out, leaving them in pitch black. "All right, this is less easy."

"Alert. Alert." An automated voice sounded above them. "Zombies have broken from the quarantine area. Please evacuate the building. Alert."

The lights flickered back on but at a much dimmer setting. Becca smiled at Steve. Now this was more like it.

"Desk?"

"Desk," he agreed.

"Zombies approaching. You have ten minutes to escape," the automated voice informed them.

They hurried over to the desk and started opening drawers. Becca pulled out a stack of loose papers. She thumbed through them. All kinds of writing and a lot of numbers. They probably wouldn't use a long string of numbers as a code. This was a pretty good stack of paper to have to sort through. She wondered if this was supposed to be a distraction as it seemed like the first place people would look. Steve must have had the same idea because he'd tossed some sheets of paper onto the desk and was examining the drawer itself.

Becca thought the trashcan was less obvious, so she dumped its contents onto the floor. A bunch of crumpled up tissues fell out, she was sure not actually used. Pretty sure. There was also a broken pencil and some crumpled paper. One of the papers had six digits written at the top, so she rushed over to the keypad and entered them. When she yanked the door, it didn't open. Not that then.

"Zombies approaching. You have five minutes to escape."

Becca went back to sorting through the trash. Steve had moved on from the desk drawers and was feeling along the edge of the desk itself.

"You know, if we were actually being chased by zombies, it'd be real convenient to have someone telling us how close they were," Becca noted, tossing aside another useless paper.

"Yeah. It'd also be real convenient if we didn't have to solve puzzles."

"True."

Becca heard a loud snap and turned around. Steve had gone to move the chair and pulled the entire top half off of its stand. Her eyes widened.

"Did you just break that?"

"I think it was supposed to come off," he replied. "Look." Steve set down the part of the chair that he was holding and dipped two fingers into the stand. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and opened it.

"Is it the code?"

"Yup." Steve made for the door. "Let's go." He punched in the code and the lock clicked. He yanked the door open and glanced in next room before ushering Becca through.

This room had two large piles of objects in the middle of the floor. They skirted around the piles to examine the next door. Where a doorknob should have been was a hole cut in a shape with several different sized, jagged edges. They crouched next to the piles. One of the piles was comprised entirely of various doorknobs. The back of each door knob was hollowed out in a specific pattern unlike the one on the door. The other pile was short, metal bars that connected the door with to one of the doorknobs.

Finding the right metal bar was the first task. Some of the bars were obviously not the right ones, since they were rounded or had too few or too many edges. Those got placed off to the side. However, there were some that appeared close enough that Becca would get up and try to fit them in the slot.

The voice once again gave them a five minute warning.

"Nothing close?" Becca asked, since Steve hadn't moved at all while she'd gotten up four times already.

"I don't think close is what we're looking for," he murmured, head cocked as he turned a bar in his hand.

"All right, Mister Sassy. I'll let you concentrate."

Steve smiled, tossing another bar onto the discard pile. A scream sounded from somewhere in the warehouse. They both looked up, but then went back to sorting.

"Zombies approaching. You have –"

"This one." Steve held up a bar.

"– three minutes –"

"Make sure," Becca instructed.

"–to escape."

Steve got up and slid the bar into the door. Becca peered at the other end of it as he crouched next to her, then shuffled over to the pile of doorknobs.

"I am just here for moral support apparently," she muttered.

"Well, you're doing a great job at that."

Since his tone was suspiciously close to sarcasm, Becca bumped him with her elbow. "Watch it, Steve. If you're the brains of this operation, that makes me the brawn. You're going to need my superior fighting skills once the zombies arrive." She swung an arm out in front of her like she was doing a karate chop causing Steve to chuckle.

"You're right. I'm sorry." He nodded towards her outstretched arm. "Also, you're holding the door knob we need."

Becca pulled the knob back towards her, having not yet checked it. How could he tell so easily? Her eyes flicked to the bar to double check, although he hadn't even looked since he'd put the bar there.

"I knew that."

Becca fit the door knob onto the bar and twisted. The door flew open. Okay this room was her chance. She was going to figure out at least one of these rooms herself.

"Hold on," said Steve, as she was about to step into the next room.

"What?" she asked. Steve didn't answer, just leaned over her to peer around the door frame. Becca rolled her eyes. "I think we've established that zombies aren't going to jump at us unannounced."

"Then it doesn't hurt to check."

The next door they had to make it through had a piece cut out of it. The outline reminded Becca a bit of a skull. All of the white walls in the room had a few square sections, colored red, with handles. The squares had various shapes on them. Becca knew immediately that this was like those frustrating elementary school math puzzles where the teacher had given the class a bunch of blocks and a few outlines of the shapes they were supposed to make with the blocks. Only this looked harder.

"Does this seem less difficult than the last puzzle?" Steve questioned.

Oh, that made her feel great about her mental capabilities. Becca was about to answer, but then she realized that there really weren't that many squares to choose from.

"I guess a little," she conceded.

Becca looked over the squares again, circling around the room. She picked one that she was fairly sure was correct and grabbed the handle. The space was empty. Nothing but black fabric lining the back of a hole in the wall. Figured.

Then, a bloody hand shot out of the fabric accompanied by a snarl.

Becca yelped and stumbled backwards out of the reach of the fake-blood stained arm. She unexpectedly smacked into Steve's chest, as he'd come up behind her, and jumped with a squeak. The arm flailed around, accompanied by more growling and then slid back out of sight. Becca's heart was galloping. She had not been expecting that.

"Becca."

Becca let out a long, slow breath, still eyeing the empty space. "Yeah."

"You all right?"

"Yeah."

"It didn't touch you?"

"No." She tore her gaze away from the black fabric. Steve was staring down at her, somehow managing to look both concerned and amused. She gave him a tiny smile. "I eliminated that one for us. You're welcome."

"Maybe next time we both agree on which ones to open," he suggested.

"Good plan."

"Zombies approaching. You have five minutes to escape."

Steve moved around to the side of the square with the small door and gingerly shut it so the arm wouldn't come out if they needed to get close. They circled around the room together, choosing which shapes they thought would fit. There were five squares they had chosen in total. Steve valiantly offered to open each square, and since one jump scare per room was quite enough for Becca, she agreed to it. Fortunately, they'd picked all the right shapes, each square yielding a block for them to use. The door opened once they fit all of the blocks from the correct squares into the skull shape.

The next room wasn't a room at all, but a hallway. The hall had ten white doors, numbered one to ten, with clouded glass making it impossible to see behind them. A single bulb flickered above. It gave the hallway a dingy air, added to by the chips in the paint on the doors and walls.

Becca knew better than to just go pulling on doors at this point, but they walked up and down the hallway without spotting any clues.

"Thoughts?" she asked.

Steve shrugged. "I mean, there's gotta be something we're missing. Ten doors. Ten…" He trailed off, thinking.

Becca took a closer look at the numbers, but she couldn't spot anything unique about the number plates. Each door was no different from the next apart from the number. No objects sitting around on the floor. No markings on the ceiling.

At the five minute mark, Door #6 rattled hard and growling came from behind it. Becca and Steve looked at each other.

"Guess it's not that door," he commented.

"Guess not."

The three minute warning set Door #1 rattling as well.

"Maybe we should pick a door," said Steve, one hand resting on the handle of Door #3. "Open it a bit, then close it if someone tries to get through."

"I doubt that'll work. If a zombie's behind the door, they'll probably wait until it's open all the way before jumping out. Otherwise, someone could just peek in all the doors."

Steve nodded once with an expression that made Becca think he was down to grasping for any idea.

"Zombies approaching. You have one minute to escape."

There was a bang on the other side of Door #7.

"All right. What's in this hallway?" he questioned.

"Uh…" Becca bounced on her heels. "Doors. Ten doors with numbers and the one door we came through. Um…" She glanced down. "Um…tile floor. Oh, how many tiles are there? Maybe –"

"Already tried that."

Of course he did. "Um… uh…" Ugh, they'd been doing so well. What was it they were missing? Becca turned in a circle. "I don't know. Walls. Ceiling. Uh, a light bulb." Wait. A light bulb. A light bulb that was flickering. "A light bulb."

Steve looked up at the bulb. "What about it?"

"It's _flickering_."

Becca stared up at the bulb right above her. It flickered in four quick bursts, then stopped, then flickered four times again.

They both dove for Door #4. Becca grabbed the handle first and leapt into the room before Steve had enough time to tell her otherwise. He shot through the door behind her to the sound of nine other doors bursting open. She slammed it shut and leaned against the back of the door.

"That… was close," she breathed.

"Yeah."

This room was the largest they'd been in. It had cupboards, cabinets, plastic tubs scattered about. In the center of the floor was the outline of a huge puzzle with the shape of all the pieces that needed to be fit together outlined in black tape. A few of the pieces, also black, were visibly scattered throughout the room.

"I'm starting to think they're taking this puzzle business a bit literally," said Steve.

"You know, maybe." They were suddenly plunged into blackness. "Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me."

"You don't think that if we ask one of the zombies in the hall back there nicely, they'd give us a flashlight?"

"Tell you what, you try that, and I'll stay here and not get eaten." Becca held out a hand in the dark, inching towards where she'd seen one of the walls. "How about I feel around this half of the room and you feel around the other and we'll toss the pieces we find into the middle."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"I have them on occasion."

Becca kept her hands out in front of her, moving slowly so she didn't ram into anything. The first thing she came into contact with was a plastic tub. She felt around the rim and touched foam. It felt like the tub was filled with bits of packing peanuts. She dug through, blindly searching for a puzzle piece. As it turned out, there were three in the tub. She tossed them all behind her.

The lights came back on, setting her blinking rapidly. "While I appreciate the light, I have the feeling it's not going to last."

"We should use it to put the pieces in the right places," Steve advised.

Steve and Becca met in the center of the room, picking up the pieces they had tossed there and setting them in their proper place.

"There are twenty-one pieces left," Steve noted. "We should call 'em as we find 'em."

"Agreed."

They got to their feet to continuing searching.

Becca was enjoying this. It was fun to put together a puzzle and have the extra challenge of the dark. Steve seemed to be enjoying himself as well, which was a relief. He was really good at these challenges, but he hadn't given her the sense that he was bored. Plus, she felt like Steve was being a little protective of her, which was a nice bonus. That had to mean he cared about her, didn't it? Or at least that he was starting to? Becca knew she shouldn't get her hopes up, but, come on, how could she not?

"Last piece," she called out. Instead of throwing it into the center, she held onto it with the other two pieces she had found.

Unfortunately, the room was still dark. She moved towards where the puzzle lay almost finished.

"Come over here so we don't bump into each other," said Becca. She lifted the hand without the puzzle pieces. "Here, I'm holding out a hand, so feel for that before you feel for anything else."

Steve coughed causing Becca to smile. She could hear him shuffling towards her.

"Say something again, Becca."

Becca thought for a split second before saying, "Marco."

"Polo," Steve responded with a laugh.

"Maaaaarcooooo." Steve's hand brushed her arm. "There you are."

"Zombies approaching. You have one minute to escape."

"You have your pieces?" Steve asked, his voice sounding more distant as he moved to the floor.

"Yeah." Becca sank down onto her knees. "So now we just have to find the holes."

As it turned out, putting together a puzzle in the dark was very difficult, even if most of it was done. She kept trying to get the foam pieces to fit together but often she had to slowly rotate them to get exactly the right angle. Nonetheless, she managed to get all of her pieces fit in the correct spot, leaving Steve with the final piece.

"Alert. This room has been compromised."

Through the dark, Becca heard the sound of a door clicking open. Her stomach twisted. She knew that there was no real danger, but having someone unknown in a dark room with her still made her skin creep. She tried to take slow steady breaths.

"How's that last piece coming?" She attempted not to sound anxious and failed.

"Hold on," he whispered back.

There was a scraping noise over on her left and a growl. It's not a real zombie. It's not a real zombie.

"Steve, if something touches me, I am going to scream."

"Just a second." Despite asking her to wait, his tone wasn't impatient. If anything it held a thread of worry.

Becca bit on her bottom lip. It was just a person. They couldn't see her if she was quiet. She shivered and forced her breathing to quiet. Another growl. That was just a person. They were not going to hurt her.

"Got it." Thank God.

The lights blazed on. Becca flinched, forcing herself to blink to adjust her eyes. She should stand up. They had to get –

"Becca, watch out!"

Steve yanked her forwards by her left arm hard enough that she cried out. Becca landed on her hands, instinctively scrabbling forward. She pivoted on her left foot, rising a few inches as she turned, ready to spring from the floor but needing to see what the hell had happened.

Steve had his back to her, shielding her from the zombie she'd heard growling. The zombie was naturally not a nasty undead creature but a man in torn up jeans and a blue button up shirt. His face was pale with makeup and fake blood was smeared across his body. He was staring down at Steve with an expression that was hilariously at odds with his scary apparel because he looked so uncertain. Becca wondered why, but then thought he probably didn't get very many people displaying quite so dramatic a save.

After a second, the zombie reached down and touched Steve's shoulder.

"Dead," he growled.

Becca sighed. So close. She was going to go sit down for a bit so her heart could calm itself down.

"Go on, Becca."

There was something different about the way his voice sounded. Becca's eyebrows rose. Okay, yeah, Steve had put himself in front of her, but…

"But we're in this together," she protested. The zombie wasn't even trying to get to her, so she stayed put.

"Keep going."

Definitely something different. Becca hesitated. Truthfully, if it was her in his place then she would have told Steve to continue and been content to wait. She would have been disappointed for not making it, but content in the knowledge that he was going to make it all the way through.

There had been a change though. What? Steve had sounded fine before. Then the time had run out and he had the last piece and she was waiting for him and it was dark and there was someone coming and… and suddenly Becca remembered that he had told her that he was in the army. She had the sinking feeling that putting a soldier in this situation was not the smartest thing she'd ever done.

"Steve?"

There was a pause, and then he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Something flickered out in his eyes, and he gave her an encouraging smile.

"Go ahead, Becca. Don't make me get eaten for nothing."

Becca chewed on her lip, a protest on the tip of her tongue. Instead of arguing further, she shifted forward on knees, throwing her arms around his neck in a comforting hug. A surprised breath burst from Steve's lips, but then he placed his hands gently on her forearms. She could feel him leaning slightly back against her.

"I'll win," she promised.

"I know."

Becca let go of him and got to her feet. The zombie looked at her and let out a half-hearted growl. Becca turned away and hurried to the next unlocked door.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Cliffhanger! Or cliffhanger-ish. Mwahaha. **

**The Great Z-scape is not based on any actual location. If you have the means, I fully support making it a reality. I will be first in line when it opens. **

**See you next week, lovelies. Thanks for the continued support. **


	6. Not Today, But Someday

Everything had been going fine.

Steve hadn't been quite sure what to expect when Becca stated that the adventure of the day was zombies. As it turned out, the place Becca chose had less to do with zombies and more to do with strategizing and solving puzzles on a timetable, areas which he understood better and was more capable in. He'd felt comfortable with the idea, offered the opportunity to get back into something that he was good at.

Then, they'd reached the room in the dark.

Steve hadn't felt any pressure until the voice told them that the room had been compromised. He'd had the last piece to fit into the puzzle, but accidently knocked it aside while groping around blindly. He heard a door click open, which meant that someone else was in the room. Becca's voice trembled beside him laced with real fear.

His entire body began screaming that that there was a threat in the room. He needed to get Becca out _now_, which he couldn't do until he finished the puzzle.

A growl rumbled through the dark as his fingers touched the last piece. He had to move faster.

"Steve, if something touches me, I am going to scream," whispered Becca.

"Just a second."

He didn't even realize he was responding to Becca's words because all of his focus was narrowed on the shape of the piece in his hand. He turned the piece, jamming it in place. They could go.

"Got it."

When the lights flicked back on, the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar man splattered in blood with his hand outstretched towards Becca. He reacted immediately, pulling her out of danger and setting himself in Becca's place. His hands curled into fists, ready to spring as soon as the man engaged.

It took a moment for Steve to recognize that there was no real threat. The man in front of him was no more than a person in a costume. Steve's body was less willing to accept this explanation, and he nearly grabbed the man as he reached down, proclaiming Steve "dead."

All this was a game. He had to remember that.

Steve knew he needed to be alone, just to calm down. When he got nightmares that made him wake tense and sweating, it took time to clear his head. That's what he needed now, so he told Becca to go. Besides, Becca hadn't been touched, so she could still play.

"Go on, Becca."

"But we're in this together," she protested.

"Keep going."

There was silence, which meant that she wasn't moving. Steve braced for a further argument.

"Steve?"

His instinct told him not to look away from the man, but Becca's voice had gone so quiet that Steve glanced over his shoulder. The way she was staring at him held such concern that he felt that he had to reassure her. So he smiled, despite the tension holding his body in place.

"Go ahead, Becca. Don't make me get eaten for nothing."

The hug was unexpected. Becca's arms were suddenly, but gently, wrapped around his neck, her cheek against his, her chest against his back. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the gesture in that first second, but then he felt some of the tension ease. It'd been a real long time since someone had tried to comfort him like this. Unable to return the hug because of the direction he was facing, he touched her arms.

Becca lifted her head, her expression renewed with a fierce determination.

"I'll win."

Steve felt almost sorry for any zombie that tried to go after her if she didn't finish the next puzzle on time.

"I know," he said.

Becca got to her feet, and Steve watched her disappear through the next door before getting up himself.

"That was some save," said the man in the costume, scratching his chin.

"Thanks."

"Follow me. I'll take you back to the lobby." The man led Steve back towards the hallway with the flickering light bulb. He opened Door #1. "There's only one more room, so your girlfriend shouldn't take more than ten minutes."

"She's actually not my girlfriend," Steve corrected, glad to pick up the new subject. Nick had thought the same thing. Couldn't he go out with a girl without dating her?

Steve stepped into another hallway. There were a number of people lounging around in zombie costumes, some near doors in the walls. One was standing next to small squares of black fabric. So that's where the arm had come shooting when Becca chose the wrong square.

"Ah, been friend zoned?"

"…Yes."

"That sucks." The man gave him a sympathetic look, which let Steve know that "friend zoned" clearly meant something more than he'd guessed. "Isn't she kind of… average to be waiting around for though?"

Steve stared at him. "What?"

"I'm just saying. If I looked like you–" The man shrugged. "– I'd be out dating babes not waiting around for…" The man waved a hand off towards the room where presumably Becca was navigating the final puzzle.

Steve decided he liked this man less and less the more he talked. "For…?"

"Don't get me wrong," the man said, backtracking when he caught Steve's warning tone. "I'm sure she's great, but don't wait around in the friend zone for a seven when you could score a ten. You get what I'm saying?" He opened a door out into the lobby.

Steve clenched his teeth, the muscles along his jaw pulling taut. All the remaining tension felt like it had redirected itself into his right arm, and Steve had to refrain from slugging the smile off the man's face.

"No. I don't," he responded. "But, you know, maybe if you started thinking of women as people instead of numbers, you could get the one you wanted."

Steve stalked past the man, leaving him speechless. He picked up his leather jacket from its coat hook and pulled it on, yanking so hard that the shoulder seams creaked. He grabbed Becca's jacket as well.

So what if Becca wasn't exceptionally beautiful? He never knew how to talk to women like that anyway. He could talk to Becca. He liked her the way she was: funny, enthusiastic, and strong-willed. That was a personality he knew how to handle. If she was kinda pretty too, that was beside the point.

He took a seat in one of the empty chairs, fixing his gaze on the door leading from the last room into the lobby.

Furthermore, anyone who spent five minutes with Becca would know that she was too energetic to be considered "average."

The door he'd been watching burst open, and Becca came hurtling through it, startling the three women checking in at the front desk. She spun around, having to take in the lobby before throwing up her hands.

"Victory!" she crowed. "No one's eating these brains today!"

Steve smiled. Yeah, if there was something exceptional about Becca it was definitely the energy.

Becca finally spotted him and lowered her arms. "Hey."

"Hi," he greeted, getting out of the chair.

Steve held out her jacket for her to shrug on. Oblivious to the gesture, she swiped it from him absentmindedly and flung it over her shoulders like a cape.

"So we won."

He nodded. "I think some people down on fifty-ninth missed the announcement. You'll have to be a little louder."

"Don't tempt me, Steve," Becca said with a wide grin. "I've got a set of pipes, and I know how to use 'em."

Steve held up his arms in mock defeat as Becca headed for the exit.

"How was the last room?"

"Ugh, stressful," Becca informed him, pushing open the door with her back. "There was a zombie in a cage, and the cage door was slowly lifting the whole time, and there were all these pegs and chutes and balls and rings and magnets and I don't even know how to explain it to you. I don't even know if I can explain it to myself. It's sort of a blur."

"Sounds like it," Steve chuckled.

They walked back along the street towards the subway. Although the sidewalk had been nearly deserted before the entered The Great Z-scape, it had gained a stream of people coming home from work. When he shifted towards Becca to allow someone by, he noticed that she was frowning.

"You all right?"

"Mmmm?" Becca stopped examining the sidewalk and looked up at him. "Oh, well, speaking of stressful zombies and stuff..." Becca rubbed her elbow.

"Uh huh," Steve prompted when she hesitated.

"So you might have noticed that I don't always think things through before doing them."

"Really?" Steve didn't think it was possible not to notice.

Becca smacked his arm. "Shhh. I'm trying to be serious for a minute here."

That got Steve's attention. "Sorry."

"No, no. It's okay. I um…" Becca cleared her throat and pulled her jacked more tightly around her shoulders.

This was more than Steve had seen Becca hesitate over anything. As she pointed out, she was generally impulsive, so whatever she had to say, it must be important to her. While Steve was tempted to let her know that she could tell him whatever it was without needing to dance around the point, he would wait until she was ready to speak.

"Okay, I'm going to just say it," Becca stated. She took a deep breath. "When we were in the room where you threw yourself in front of me, which was very valiant of you by the way, I sorta got the sense that the situation might have triggered something. You did tell me you were in the army, and I should have taken that into consideration. It's just, I'm a believer in treating everyone the same even if they've been through something difficult, but in this case I'm not sure that was the right choice to make.

"If this trip brought anything up, I want to apologize. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but, of course, I want you to know that you can always talk to me about anything. Despite how it seems, I can actually sit still long enough to be a good listener. So yeah, there it is: my very long ramble to say I'm sorry."

Of all the things Becca could have brought up, Steve supposed he should have expected this would be it. After all, she'd looked at him with such wide-eyed concern back in that room. What Steve appreciated about her response, both then and now, was the lack of pity. Becca wasn't talking like she felt sorry for him. Obviously she wanted to help, but that was different. Also, she wasn't trying to force him to talk about the situation, though she left room for him to talk if he chose. It might take some restraint, but Steve didn't doubt that Becca would listen quietly if she thought he really needed to talk.

Steve was sorely tempted to tell her the truth right then. Clearly he had made the right choice when he'd stood his ground over maintaining their friendship, and Becca was offering the opportunity for him to do the right thing confiding in her. She wasn't a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink. She wasn't Nick who, although Steve didn't mind talking to, was keeping all his cards close to the chest. Becca was just a friend offering to listen. Steve didn't think she'd walk away.

"I know my face is distracting, but if you wouldn't mind saying something so I know I'm not off here?" requested Becca, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ears self-consciously.

Steve didn't think so… but he wasn't certain.

"No, you're not off," Steve confessed. He could give her a sliver of the truth. "I appreciate it, Becca. Really. I'll take you up on that offer someday, but not today."

Steve promised himself "someday" was going to be soon. As soon as he got back to his apartment, Steve was going to seriously consider how to tell her.

Becca eyed him searchingly and then nodded once. "Someday," she agreed.

"And I did have fun," Steve continued, not wanting Becca to feel guilty.

"Oh good."

Relief was more acceptable than a frown, but Steve thought he could do better.

"But I'm not sure it was quite as good as the adventure I planned."

"Um, excuse me?" That was all it took for Becca to be herself again. She nudged him. "I think zombies trump hiking on the adventure scale."

"They weren't real zombies," he pointed out.

"Tch. So?" Becca shrugged. "They were close enough for you apparently."

"Ouch, Becca."

"Don't you 'ouch, Becca' me. You got all smart on me, so clearly you're over it."

"Well, one of us needs to be smart or we wouldn't have made it through all those puzzles."

Becca gasped, putting a hand over her heart with an exaggerated movement. Steve couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, I see how it is," she said. "I'm going to remember this."

"Well, fortunately, I'm picking the next adventure so…"

"And what are you going to think up that's better than pseudo-zombies, I'd like to know?"

"Uh…" Steve thought. "Pseudo-werewolves?"

Becca rolled her eyes, but then held up a hand and pointed. "There wolves." She swung her hand across the street. "There castle." Steve's confusion must have shown because she questioned, "You haven't seen _Young Frankenstein_?"

Steve had a movie _about_ Frankenstein, but she wasn't quoting anything familiar from that movie.

"No."

"Well, do you have Netflix?"

"N-no?"

"Okay, you are coming with me to my apartment right now, and we are fixing this. It's hilarious, I promise. I will even give you popcorn."

Steve had no inclination to argue. He liked watching movies, but there were so many that it was hard for him to figure out which ones to choose. A comedy about a somewhat familiar subject seemed like as good a choice as any.

"I do like popcorn," said Steve. "And movies."

Becca took his arm. "Excellent. It's decided."

* * *

><p>By the time they reached her apartment, Becca had discovered that the list of amazing movies Steve hadn't seen was woefully long. At first he'd seemed worried by her reactions, but that worry had long faded into amusement at her increasingly agonized remarks.<p>

"But you have to have at least seen oneof the _Star Wars_ movies," Becca prodded as she shut the door to her apartment. "How could you not have seen any of them?"

"Well, it's either I've been living under a rock, I'm an alien who is clearly not doing his job of observing human culture, or the Matrix has finally glitched," Steve recounted. His brow furrowed. "Although, I'm still not really sure I get that last one."

Becca groaned and rubbed the corners of her eyes. How was this even possible?

"You're kidding, right?" she asked yet again. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Steve shrugged agreeably. "All right. I'm kidding."

"You're not though, and it distresses me."

"I've noticed."

There were people out there who didn't watch many movies. Becca knew that and considered it a shame that they were missing out on the wonders of film. Nonetheless, even the people who had minimal film exposure had, at some point in their lives, seen one of the classic movies imbedded in pop culture Yet, Steve inexplicably managed to miss out on all of them despite his assertion that he did enjoy watching movies.

"What about the classics?" Becca suggested, shrugging off her jacket. "_Jaws_? _Godzilla_? Um… _The Sound of Music_?" She hung the jacket on a coat rack next to the door, indicating with a nod of her head for Steve to do the same. "_Gone with the Wind_? Um…"

"I have seen _Gone with the Wind_," Steve interrupted with excitement.

Becca's eyebrows rose. "Of all the movies, _that's_ the one you've seen?"

She had sort of meant listed that movie as a joke, but far be it from her to judge if Steve was into classic romance movies. As long as he didn't ask her to sit through _Sleepless in Seattle_, they'd be fine. Plus, his expression was too eager for her to want to burst his bubble.

"Well, at least I know you do actually watch movies," Becca sighed. She had started to speculate that he'd only agreed to the film to spare her feelings or something along those lines. "Go ahead and grab a seat on the couch. I'll throw some popcorn in the microwave."

Becca left him to hunt down popcorn in the kitchen. She wondered whether it might be productive to start with a film more popular than _Young Frankenstein_, but she enjoyed the movie and it was well-known enough to be worth having Steve watch. They might have to start interspersing adventures with movie nights though.

After finding the box of microwavable popcorn shoved behind the cereal, Becca popped a bag into the microwave and ducked into the bathroom to quickly freshen up. On the way back, she hesitated by her bedroom door. Should she take her meds now? Then she wouldn't have to think about them until after Steve had left.

Becca went into her bedroom and got the bottles out of her bedside table. She glanced at the clock. It was too soon. Becca almost put the bottles back in the drawer, but then lifted them again. It was only too soon by forty minutes. The last time she'd taken her meds early, she'd been fine.

Instead of having to come up with an excuse later, Becca swallowed the two tablets with water from a cup on her desk before hustling back to the kitchen.

The popcorn was almost done. Becca opened the refrigerator to see what there was to drink. Not a whole lot as it turned out.

"Beer okay with you?" she called.

"Yeah, that's fine," Steve responded.

Good because it was all they had besides milk and cranberry juice.

Becca took out two bottles and uncapped them. The microwave beeped as she was tossing the caps into the trash. Mmmm, it already smelled delicious. She emptied the bag of popcorn into a large bowl and mixed in a palm-full of salt. She carried it out to the living room with the beers clasped in the opposite hand.

Steve got up from the couch as soon as he saw her.

"Need a hand?"

"All set, but you can take this." Becca shifted her fingers so that one of the beers stuck out.

Steve took it from her. "Thanks."

"Mhmm."

Becca sank into her seat on the opposite end of the couch from Steve, setting the bowl of popcorn on the cushion between them where it would be easily reachable.

"So what was the last movie you even watched?" she asked, picking up the remote.

"_Red_."

Becca paused in the middle of logging onto Netflix. All right, so classic romantic films and comedy action movies were his thing. Actually, to be fair, he had never said he'd liked _Gone with the Wind_, only that he had seen it. Becca had watched the film for an elective film class in college. People did watch movies for different, weird reasons.

"Not that that's not a good movie, but it's kinda random," Becca noted.

"It was playing when I turned the TV on."

"Ah, one of those kinds of movie watches. Got it." Becca ran a search for _Young Frankenstein_. "Well, I would suggest investing in Netflix instead of settling for whatever's on because you have a _lot_ of great stuff you're missing out on." Becca reached out and touched Steve's shoulder. "I will help start you down the path, but alas, I am just one woman who can do little more than direct you towards superior technology."

Steve laughed. "I appreciate it, but… I don't know. I think watching you react to the movies I haven't seen might be more entertaining."

Becca huffed. A quest to enlighten him on the greats of film might be wasted. Then, a sly smile crept over her lips.

"I'm sure that I'm no more entertaining than your reaction to that group of girls trying to flirt with you across the subway car," she purred.

Steve suddenly looked embarrassed, although not quite as much as he had when one of the girls winked at him. It had taken a lot of will power for Becca not to burst out laughing as the girls had all tried to maneuver in the seats to make them appear as flattering as possible. Eventually, she'd taken pity on Steve and brought up the subject of movies, which had gotten the both of them thoroughly distracted, much to the girls' disappointment, she was sure.

"How old do you think they were?" Becca mused, tapping the remote. "Sixteen?"

Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Definitely too young."

"The way they giggled when you looked at them. If it was any higher in pitch, I swear my eardrums would have started bleeding."

"All right, are we gonna watch this movie?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably on the couch cushion and avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, sorry. I was so entertained, I almost forgot." Becca dug her hand into the popcorn bowl and started the movie, swearing she heard Steve sigh in relief.

Despite her teasing, Becca couldn't blame the girls for noticing Steve even if he was too old for them. He was ridiculously good looking, and he went from hot to damn cute when he was flustered. And Becca had to give this to the girls, they might have looked silly while doing it, but they'd actively tried to flirt with Steve. That was more than she had done.

Becca didn't know what to do about the situation. She told herself that they could just be friends, and she could wait and see if anything developed beyond that. She had thought it was better to find out more about him so as to be sure that any attempt to get involved was worth the risk. So Becca waited. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that her brain, heart, whatever had gone on and decided to like him whether it was a good idea or not.

Becca could hint that she was interested with a few flirty remarks. If she was feeling particularly bold, she could go for holding his hand instead of taking his arm. There were a million ways to flirt with him.

Steve hadn't done anything to specifically indicate that he was interested, but he also never explicitly told her that he wasn't. Becca had backed off because she'd sensed that he needed some space, but that was a few weeks ago. Things could change in a few weeks. They'd hung out a handful of times. Becca thought they clicked. Hell, this was more to start on than she'd had in the past.

What had Becca hesitating was that she wasn't sure if Steve felt the same way. If she tried, only to be rejected, that would be awkward for both of them. Becca hated awkward. That and…

Becca was broken out of contemplating the situation by Steve's laughter. She lifted her head from resting on her hand. Right, they were watching a movie. She had invited Steve over. The least she could do was be attentive while he was here. The problem of whether or not to flirt with him was being shelved to think about later tonight.

At least Steve was enjoying the movie, but then they did share a similar sense of humor. Yet another reason why they'd work well together. Ugh, she had to focus.

Once Becca began paying attention, it was easy to get caught up in the movie. She kept fidgeting though once her meds kicked in. Maybe taking them early before having to sit for a few hours wasn't the best plan. Tapping her fingers against her knee took some of the edge off, enough to let her concentrate on the screen. Also getting into a popcorn fight helped, even if using a pillow as a shield was so cheating.

Becca might not even have noticed Ally coming home from work if her roommate hadn't spoken up the minute she'd walked in the door.

"Well, you'll never guess what – Hi."

Becca scooped up the remote and hit pause. "Hey. Steve this–" She noticed that Steve had gotten to his feet, looking nearly as embarrassed as he had with the girls on the subway. Weird. "–is Ally, my roommate," she introduced.

Ally extended a hand. "I was the sultry voice on the intercom when you picked up Becca that one time."

"Right," he said, shaking her hand. "It's good to finally meet you."

Was he blushing? Becca peered at him, tossing the last piece of popcorn into her mouth instead of using it as ammo. That was definitely a pink tinge on his cheeks. Oh, please let this not be over the appearance of her roommate. Becca was going to be so put out if he asked after Ally. Fortunately, Ally had made things official with Danny, not that she would have reciprocated when Becca had already hinted how she felt about Steve.

"Becca's been telling me lots of good things," Ally continued.

Steve glanced at Becca. "Yeah?"

Becca gave him a smile, but as soon as his eyes left her she shot Ally a warning look. Her roommate meant well, but Becca didn't want her help because that could only end in embarrassment. Ally's eyebrows rose marginally, which indicated to Becca that she'd gotten the message.

"Mhmm. You know, my boyfriend Danny and I are hitting up this carnival in Roslyn on Saturday. You should come with Becca," Ally invited. "It'll be fun. Like a double date."

Of course, that didn't mean Ally was going to listen. Becca felt like her insides had fallen through the couch. She almost picked up a pillow and buried her face in it. Why couldn't Ally have taken the damn hint?

"Uh… I…" The hesitation in Steve's tone was enough that Becca did grab the pillow, although she stopped in time from making a nose dive.

"Well, think about it," Ally said without waiting for an answer. "I'm just gonna borrow Becca for two seconds."

Becca jumped off the couch without a glance back at Steve and followed Ally into her roommate's bedroom, torn between being mortified and angry. Ally had given Becca a nudge with a guy before, but she'd never been this direct.

Becca waited until the door was closed to hiss, "What the hell, Ally?"

Ally shrugged. "Clearly you needed an intervention."

"What does that even mean?"

"Um, you have a gorgeous man in the apartment with you, alone, and you're sitting across the couch from him," Ally elaborated, crossing to the closet to put away her suit jacket.

"Well, where should I be sitting? Next to him?"

"Or on top of him."

"Ally! Seriously?" Becca snapped.

"What? Clearly you weren't going to make a move, so I helped you out."

"Maybe I would have." Ally gave her a doubtful look. "Eventually."

Becca rubbed her forehead. This was so not okay. She needed some more time to think, but Ally had to just swoop in. What was Steve going to think?

"Look, you like him don't you?" Ally prompted, folding her arms. "I mean, you mention him practically every day."

"But I don't know if he likes me." Becca leaned against the wall behind her and sighed. "That's the problem."

"And how is just sitting there going to solve that problem?"

Sitting there wasn't doing a thing, and Becca knew it. She scuffed her foot across the floor, hesitating.

"I don't know."

Ally pursed her lips. "Okay, so…?"

Becca threw up her hands. "I don't know!" She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "Just please don't help anymore."

Ally frowned, kicking the closet door shut. She surveyed Becca's flushed face and nodded.

"All right. I'm sorry," Ally apologized. "He seemed good for you. I didn't want you to miss out."

Becca chewed on the corner of her lip. She was still pissed off, but she knew Ally mean well. She'd made an inconsiderate move, but she meant well.

"What is even up with you, girl?" Ally questioned. "You're not usually this shy."

"I… I just…"

What had Becca hesitating, more than an uncertainty over how Steve felt, was a growing fear over her injuries. The doctors had said her nerves might heal in a two to six months, but they might not heal at all. What if she hinted to Steve that she liked him and he returned those feelings? He'd have to know about the meds she took, and maybe he'd treat her different. Worse, what if after going steady for a while, she hadn't healed? Becca didn't want to worry him if she fell asleep only to wake gasping in pain as she fumbled for the relief of pain medication. Neither did she want him to witness her in the mornings before she had a chance for the Adderall to bring her back to usual, happy self.

"It's complicated."

Ally's frown deepened. "Becca –"

"I'm going to go see if I can work damage control." Becca straightened up and pulled the door open. They could discuss this later.

The walk down the hallway was difficult. Becca wasn't expecting Steve to straight up disappear on her. He was too nice for that. More likely than not, he'd simply tell her that he wasn't interested. If he did, then she'd know. Maybe they could work through the awkward. She'd like to try. Or maybe she could pass it all off as Ally making assumptions. That was the route Becca thought would work the best.

Or he might like to come. Steve could conceivably say yes.

Becca was hoping he wouldn't notice her for a second so she could judge the situation. Of course, Steve looked right at her as soon as she entered, and she couldn't read a thing off of him.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, fine." Becca plopped back down on the couch. She noticed that Steve had picked up all the popcorn that had been scattered by the fight and put them back in the bowl. Why did he have to be so damn thoughtful? "Sorry about that. Ally's great, but she can be a handful."

Becca picked up the remote, no longer able to look Steve in the face. If she put the movie back on, they might be able to move past it without discussion.

"Becca, about Saturday…"

Or not.

"It's fine. You don't have to come," said Becca.

Her finger hesitated over the play button, waiting for a beat of silence.

"It's not that I don't think you're–"

That was all Becca needed to hear. If Steve was going to accept the offer, he would have done it first thing. The truth stung, but not so much she was going to cry about it. Having him as a friend was nice, and it avoided complications. Better she knew now. Time for some damage control.

"Steve, really. Don't worry about it. Ally has a hard time with the concept that men can be just friends, too." Becca made herself meet his eyes and smile. "Besides, it's your turn to plan the next adventure."

Becca wasn't sure that Steve bought it, and she felt her nerves vibrating under his questioning gaze. Then, he returned her smile.

"Right."

Becca relaxed. Crisis averted. She unpaused the movie.

"So she's a handful, huh?" Steve questioned.

"Yeah." Becca tossed the remote back onto the coffee table with the empty beer bottles and bowl of discarded popcorn. As she was settling into the cushion, she noticed his disbelieving expression. "What?"

Steve shrugged a shoulder. "I just didn't think there was anyone out there who was more of a handful than you."

Becca threw a pillow at him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Shut. Down. All right, Steve didn't so much shut Becca down as begin to turn her down in what would have been a very apologetic if somewhat embarrassed manner. I think that, considering what Steve is going through, he would need and want a friend more than experiencing the newness of a relationship. ****Never fear! He'll come around. Love has a funny way of creeping up on us (Hallmark quote of the day, check). **

**In case y'all wanted another movie recommendation, _Young Frankenstein._ It's pretty funny and very quotable. I think Steve would appreciate its humor as well as the fact that it's in black and white. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited!**


	7. Going Underground

Steve made his way through the shuffle of people crowding the subway platform. He hadn't planned on doing much more than hitting a few punching bags, but he'd made plans with Becca after talking to her on the phone earlier. She was busy the next few days, but sounded perfectly willing when he suggested today. He didn't mind seeing her again so soon. After all, he'd left her apartment wondering if she would want to see much more of him.

With the incident at Becca's apartment, Steve realized how dumb he'd been. He wished that he could put it down to his inexperience with women, but that wasn't entirely fair. His relief to have someone who wanted nothing more than to be a friend, to have something uncomplicated and familiar, had left him half blind. He almost apologized to Becca for not noticing that she had other ideas, but Becca made it clear that she had no desire to talk about the difference between what they had wanted from each other. While Becca must have been unsure before, he was certain she knew then.

Steve let it go, praying that he hadn't lost his one friend and Becca would be content as they were. She was nice enough, and, if he was any example, she had the ability to talk men she just met into anything. Becca would find someone else to turn that kind of attention towards. But, not wanting to lose her entirely, he still called and she still answered with the usual level of enthusiasm, making him hopeful that everything between them was fine.

"Hi there, stranger." Becca appeared beside him in the crowd. She looped her arm through his, and he decided to take that as a sign that everything really was fine. "You cut your hair. It looks good."

Steve raised a hand, running it over the shorter hair, which continued to feel strange to the touch. He'd never had his hair this short. Ma had cut it when he was a kid, and he was so used to the weight that the style had hardly varied over the years. Hairstyles tended to run shorter now, but he had been hesitant to make the change and leave the one physical part of him reminiscent of home behind. However, he'd made a number of steps to adapt so far, and this felt like the next one.

Also, the nice, elderly woman at the convenience store near his apartment remarked to him that her husband had the same haircut when they were dating and hadn't been aware young people were returning to the same style. That was the final push. Steve had gone right from the store to the barber shop.

"Thanks." Steve started up the stairs, mindful that there needed to be space for both of them before taking a step up.

"Mhmm. It's…" Becca tipped her head. "More professional athlete, less rich boy prep school."

The haircut had been a good choice, he decided. Steve would definitely take athlete over rich boy, even if he didn't think his hair had been quite that bad.

"Did I not mention I signed onto the Yankees?" he joked.

"What?" Becca gasped, accompanied by a dramatic sweep of her hand over her mouth. "And you didn't tell me at once? The nerve."

"Sorry."

"I'll forgive you if I get a good hint about where we're going," she said with a sniff.

The hints they gave each other tended to be less than helpful, if not plain cryptic, so by this point he knew better than to concede to Becca's request.

"I already gave you a hint," Steve reminded her as they reached the top of the stairs. "I told you to wear whatever it is you can really move in."

In Becca's case, that had amounted to beat up sneakers, a jacket in the style he'd seen other women wear while out for a run, and a bag attached at her hip in place of a purse. She'd also pulled her hair back into a ponytail, the end of which fell back behind her shoulder as she flicked it away, frowning at him.

"That so does not count," she argued.

"Why not?"

"Because you had to tell me that. After making me trek up a mountain in a sweater, you owe me."

"That's funny because I seem to remember _someone_ insisting we continue all the way up even though I suggested we go back." Steve gave her a pointed look, to which Becca responded with a dismissive wave.

"Details. It was still your idea. Also, I said a good hint. 'What I can really move in?' How much movement are we doing here?" Becca let go of his arm to hook two fingers around the edge of his open leather jacket. She pulled it back an inch. "All you did is change into, what? A t-shirt?"

Really it was a plain white undershirt, but that was close enough. Steve hadn't bought any new clothing beyond what he'd been given. There had been no point in spending money on what he saw other men running in when he couldn't run himself without attracting unwanted attention. This worked well enough for the gym, and it would certainly work for what he had planned.

"You'll see. I just wanted to be sure you could keep up," he remarked, partly teasing.

Becca let go of his jacket, drawing herself up in a manner he assumed was supposed to be threatening.

"I would give you a good shove," she stated before letting her shoulders slump. "But I don't know how much effect pushing you would have. You're built like a freaking rock."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Mmm. I might need to start rethinking my methods."

Becca peered at him. The close assessment of her gaze made the back of Steve's neck tingle warningly. As he made sure they weren't going to bump into anyone on the sidewalk, he kept a close eye on Becca, who had gone thoughtfully silent. Which was why he was ready when her hand darted out.

Steve blocked her with a flick of his wrist, deflecting her reach. He hadn't predicted Becca anticipating his movement, however, so when her other hand followed immediately behind, it pressed into his side. Instead of poking him in the ribs, the expected sign of mild annoyance that was only slightly less popular than a nudge of her shoulder, her fingers brushed against him and wiggled.

Steve flinched away, letting out a loud breath. His ribs shifted out of reach of her fingers while his elbow dropped protectively against his side.

"You're ticklish," Becca declared with a smirk.

"Yeah." Steve rubbed the spot she had found, wary in case she tried to reach him again. "And you're not?"

Becca's smirk widened. "Nope."

Steve directed them around a corner onto another street. The last time he had been tickled was when he was real young. He'd forgotten how strange the sensation was, not quite unpleasant, but not the nicest experience either. Even if he wouldn't have retaliated in the same way, he felt cheated that he couldn't.

"Yeah, well, maybe we can leave that method of torture to the kids," he said.

"Are you implying that I'm acting childish?"

"Stating it," he corrected.

"I've gotta let the inner child out once and a while. She gets bored," Becca joked. "Besides, I think you're just grumpy because I can tickle you, and you can do absolutely nothing about it."

"I could go right back to the subway." Steve smiled. "Then, you'd never know where we were headed."

Becca shrugged. "And I could jump you and tickle the information out of you."

"I don't think so," Steve informed her.

"Is that a challenge?" Becca's eyes narrowed. "Because it sounded like one."

"No. It's not a challenge." Steve held out his arm like a peace offering and, after a moment's hesitation, Becca took it. "Because for it to be a challenge, you'd have to have a chance."

Becca sucked in a breath. Her fingers tightened around his arm, although not enough to hurt. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, causing the dusting of freckles to darken as her eyes glinted with bright determination.

Sometimes he ran off his mouth too far. Steve had to wonder if she really was going to attempt to attack him in the middle of the sidewalk. He could fend her off, of course, but not without it appearing like a scuffle to anyone passing by, even if he was careful with her.

As Becca leaned closer to him, Steve readied himself. He was prepared to make an apology first in the hopes of avoiding the entire situation, but then Becca merely smiled like she knew what he'd been thinking.

"You know, I am actually a grown up," Becca chided. "Most of the time."

Steve allowed himself to relax. "Right."

"Also, this is not an ideal location." Becca scuffed one foot on the cement but continued walking in stride. "Too many hard surfaces. Too many people."

"So… am I supposed to be worried?"

Becca winked at him. "Guess that depends where we're adventuring. If I had a proper hint, maybe I could tell you."

For someone who didn't want to be told explicitly where they were going, Becca was very persistent about wanting a useful hint. Steve considered what to tell her when the hint presented itself.

"All right, you want a good hint?"

"Yes, please."

"One o'clock."

Becca frowned ponderously. "That's a good hint?"

"Now it's two o'clock."

"What do you – Oh!" Becca turned her head to face across the street in the direction he'd been indicating.

If Steve had learned anything from the last two places where Becca had chosen to meet, it was that she liked games. He might not know about things like The Great Z-scape, but there was a certain type of place that was bound to still exist and was, in a way, a game. He'd gone on a search, taking up the excuse to hone his internet capability. The one he'd chosen had opened this week, so he was certain that Becca had never been. Also, the website had indicated there was no admission fee for the first few days because they wanted people for a "trial run." S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him a generous budget, but Steve avoided spending when possible.

The building Steve had identified was noticeable for its short height, around two stories, which was unusual in New York City. The walls were dark brick, broken only by a glass door with a single window next to it. Carved into stone above the doorway were the words "The Tunnels."

Becca threw him a questioning look, but Steve shook his head. She wasn't getting any more out of him.

When there was enough time between cars, they crossed the street. Steve pulled open the door to a gust of chilled air. Becca stepped through the door first into a small lobby furnished with a few wooden chairs and framed black and white pictures of subway trains. A receptionist was sitting at a corner desk beside an open doorframe with stairs leading down and out of sight.

The receptionist said a few more words into the phone, beckoning them over with a friendly wave as she did so.

"Welcome to The Tunnels," the receptionist said with a mild Southern accent. "New York's only underground maze."

As Steve had hoped, Becca's expression lit up. She bounced on her toes in anticipation and beamed at him. Steve felt a stroke of pride for finding an adventure-worthy place that obviously ranked up with her last choice. He was also pleased that he'd picked something that made her smile up at him like that.

"Y'all ready for some fun?"

"Always," said Becca, her gaze flicking away from him and focusing on the receptionist.

"Well, all right," laughed the receptionist. "Just a few things to get you started." She rifled through a desk drawer. "We're working on getting an estimate for how long it takes to get through the maze, so I'm gonna give you two a stopwatch. Just press it when you get to the bottom of the stairs, stop it when you get back, and if you could check the time when you reach the center. There'll be a star, that's how you'll know." She placed the small plastic stopwatch on the desk and went into another drawer. "And I'm also gonna give you a little pen light. If ya'll want to get out for any reason, you just give it a wave for the cameras. Someone will come find you, all right?" She set a silver pen light next to the stopwatch as Steve and Becca nodded.

"I can take these." Becca reached for the stopwatch and light. "They'll fit in my bag."

"Just so you know, ma'am, there are some obstacles in the maze," the receptionist stated. "That bag looks small enough that it won't get in your way, but we have some lockers if you'd like to leave it."

With an outside pocket almost opened, Becca's fingers twitched from the zipper and curled tightly around the bag like she was protecting it. Steve eyed the bag, contemplating what inside would spark that reaction, but then he supposed he wouldn't like the idea of leaving his wallet much either. He trusted the receptionist fine, but the wrong kind of people had a way of turning up in a city.

"I think we're fine," Steve stated. "But thank you, ma'am."

Becca's fingers flexed. She tucked away the pen light. "Yeah, thanks."

"Sure thing. You two have fun now."

The dismissal was all Becca needed to break for the stairs with an eagerness that drew Steve along behind her, shaking his head in amusement. Something was telling him that it would be best to have Becca take the lead on this one. She glanced back at him, arching an impatient eyebrow at his still being on the top step while she had already descended a number of them.

"Come on, slowpoke," she prompted.

Yeah, he'd definitely let Becca lead.

* * *

><p>The moment Steve touched the floor beside her, Becca started the stopwatch. She put it in the outside pocket of her bag beside the pen light, which she was determined not to use. They were going to make it through this maze on their own come hell or high water, or whatever more likely obstacles the maze presented.<p>

The stairs had led them to a roughly carved stone tunnel. The ceiling was strung every few feet with a light bulb encased in a plastic cage, visible orange wires running between the bulbs. This let off a surprisingly bright light, a comfort as shadows would have left Becca nervous about rats. The tunnel stretched out in both directions, so Becca randomly decided to start out going left.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've gone through a maze?" she asked.

"A while?" Steve guessed.

"Ages."

In her hometown there had been a maze built of hay bales every year at the harvest fair, but it was tiny, both in length and height. Only small children ran through it, accompanied by the occasional slightly older kid who thought it was fun to jump between the stacks of hay until a parent whisked them off. Becca had been disappointed the year her parents had steered her away. She's never been given a reason to pick her way through another maze, so she was excited at the chance.

Becca reached out and ran a hand along the wall as they walked. The stone was cold, nipping at the tips of her fingers. The air around them was cool as well, making Becca thankful for her jacket.

"I do remember reading somewhere that the best way to get through a maze is to pick one of the walls and follow it."

Steve nodded his head once. "I guess that makes sense."

The tunnel turned sharply to the right and connected them to a new tunnel. The ceiling had vaulted up to nearly twice Becca's height. The wall in front of them left a gap between it and the ceiling, but was still tall enough that neither Becca nor Steve could see over it. Due to the curve of the ceiling, which continued over the gap, Becca got the sense that this tunnel was much larger when it had been constructed. It had been broken up by the placement of the wall.

"These were abandon subway tunnels," Steve explained, having undoubtedly noticed Becca eyeing the ceiling with curiosity.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

There were three corridors leading off of this tunnel. Becca went for the one on the right since that was where the wall she had chosen was leading.

"Huh. I think the only way this maze could get more awesome is if it was, like, the labyrinth of the Mole People or something."

"Mole People?" Steve repeated slowly as if Becca had spouted out a foreign phrase.

"Yeah, you know, the Mole People." Becca's eyebrows drew together. "Didn't you grow up here? How have you never heard of the Mole People?" The corridor split, but they continued along the right wall.

"I, uh…" Steve appeared to be groping for a good explanation, so Becca cut him some slack.

"I'm starting to think you really did live under a rock," teased Becca with a shake of her head. "It's an urban legend. Supposedly there are people running around under New York, half human half mole."

Steve looked at her disbelievingly. "And they live in a labyrinth?"

"No, but they're part mole. Moles make tunnels. They could make a labyrinth."

"Are these Mole People the size of a subway train?" Steve questioned, squinting up at the ceiling.

"Well, no. They're human size, but there are a lot of them. Lots of claws." Becca curved her fingers like talons for emphasis. "It could be done." They hit a dead end and turned back.

"But it's a legend."

"Yeah, but legends do make things more exciting, right?"

"I think you were plenty excited before you thought of Mole People."

"Well, come on, it's an underground maze. It's exciting! It's fun!" Becca abruptly whirled around and snatched up Steve's hands. "Be excited with me, Steve," she invited, swinging their hands as she continued to walk backwards.

Steve laughed. "You are going to hit a wall walking like that."

"That's part of the excitement!"

"All right, I'm excited," Steve chuckled. "So would you please turn around?"

Becca grinned and let go of his hands. "Only 'cause you asked nicely." She spun back in the correct direction and once again ran her fingers along the wall.

After another two dead ends, Becca and Steve turned into a wide corridor that housed the first obstacle. Thick ropes had been woven together across the corridor like a massive spider's web. A wall stone wall placed behind the web made it impossible to see the other side. The web had been set at such an angle that would prevent anyone falling off onto the stone floor, but would feel like a climb nonetheless.

"You can go first," Steve offered.

"Okay."

Becca started climbing close to the middle, instead of the left or right, since that was where the ropes were bunched the closest together, making better hand and foot holds. At first, it was easy. The slope was gentle, and she was able to pull herself along if there were no convenient places for her feet. Then, the ropes began to space out more. The incline was steeper. The ropes wobbled more as Becca moved between them. She had to pause to consider where to place her hand next instead of choosing at random.

"Do you want help?" Steve asked after she got herself stuck between two threads of rope that would be difficult to grab no matter which she chose.

"No thanks," Becca replied. She had considered backtracking, but decided against it.

She had this. There was no way she was failing on the very first obstacle. Come on. She just had to channel her inner spider. Becca crouched as much as she could.

Once the ropes stopped swaying, Becca sprung upwards and grabbed one of the ropes. She threw her other hand upwards and managed to snatch another rope. Her shoulders burned at the task of holding her full body weight. She peered down at her feet, one of which had slipped through a gap while the other hung uselessly against a vertical rope.

"You sure?"

"Yup," grunted Becca. She swung the useless leg over to an available rope and sighed in relief when the pressure on her arms lessened. "This was too easy, so I thought I'd make it more interesting."

"Right."

Extracting her foot from the gap turned out to be a complicated process as it involved lowering herself enough that the rope wouldn't get caught on her shoelaces. By the time Becca reached the top, her hands were pink, but she swung a leg over the top of the wall with triumph.

From where she sat, Becca could see the maze spread out before her. She wasn't high enough to pick out a path all the way through, but that would have ruined the challenge. Then, she looked down and almost groaned. There was another web, a mirror of the one she had scaled. Did they let kids into this maze? Kids were made of elastic and rubber, so maybe they would have had an easier time of it.

"It's another web on this side," she called to Steve. She tried to find the best route. "I'll see you down there."

"All right."

Becca pivoted off the wall and lowered herself onto a nearby rope. She found the descent easier since she could drop and slide between foot holds. She was feeling rather satisfied with herself until, halfway down, she glanced up and spotted Steve sitting on top of the wall and watching her.

"You never told me you were raised by spiders," Becca reproached. Climbing up ropes had probably been basic army training. She should have thought of that.

"It slipped my mind."

"Of course."

Near the end, Becca swung around and slid the last few feet. She pushed off the ropes and brushed off her hands. She threaded her fingers and stretched her arms up to loosen the muscles.

"Okay, Steve. Let's see what you got."

Steve glanced down at the tangle of rope. Becca figured he would shimmy down the web with trained ease, but instead he did something much more impressive. He pressed his feet back against the wall and threw himself forward into the air causing Becca to gasp. She had a split second to panic that he was going to break some bones hitting the floor until he grabbed one of the ropes. His back hit the web, and he let go, tucking into a roll and somersaulting twice before pushing on the web and landing in a crouch right at the bottom. Becca stared at him open mouthed while he straightened up.

Holy shit. Becca snapped her teeth together. That was like a scene out of a damn action movie. What the hell were they teaching people in the army?

Despite being thoroughly awed, Becca merely noted, "Well, that's one way to muss up your hair."

"Yeah, I thought I'd make it more interesting." Steve ran a hand over his hair, putting the few tousled strands back into place. In truth, his hair had survived the tumble with frustrating neatness.

Becca rolled her eyes. "Show off," she muttered, but not without fondness. After all, she had encouraged him.

They followed the new corridor, backtracking whenever they hit a wrong turn. Becca chose a new wall to follow each time this happened. She wasn't sure whether doing so helped them any, but it did keep her from getting turned around when they had to choose a new route.

"Which way do you think?" questioned Becca after they returned to a five-way crossroads. She had wandered along without asking him to pick so far, so it seemed fair that she offer at least once.

Steve shrugged. "Up to you. I'll follow your lead."

Knowing Steve was giving her free reign put on pressure, but Becca didn't mind. It only made her more determined. She examined the three untried paths and selected the middle one.

It was soon apparent that Becca had chosen the correct path as it brought them to the next obstacle. A block of stairs took them up to a platform that was once meant to become a subway station, broken up by four thick columns. Of course, Becca highly doubted that "Magma Station," the name set on the back wall, would have been the designated stop name. Although the walls had been covered with gleaming white tiles, the floor of the platform glistened deep red. At least, it was all red until they reached the top step.

Suddenly, black squares popped up on the red. The squares were wide enough to stand on and, as far as Becca could tell, scattered at random across the floor with swathes of red in between. Becca leaned out around a wall that had been set up where the train might have come in and saw another set of stairs at the other end.

"Looks like we're supposed to cross on the squares," Steve observed.

"I guess. I think it's supposed to be like The Floor is Lava." Becca pointed at the "Magma Station" sign. "But what's stopping someone from –"

The moment Becca's foot touched the red a sound like a hundred nails being dragged across a chalkboard echoed across the platform in a loud shriek. She jerked her food back and rubbed her ears. There was no way she wanted to hear that sound ever again. Ever.

"Maybe we should stick to the squares," suggested Steve.

"Seconded. You go. I'll be right behind." Even if Steve had bigger feet, Becca trusted him to avoid accidently setting off the nails again more than she trusted herself.

Steve examined the platform. He stepped decisively onto the closest black square and next onto the square off to the right. When Steve lifted his foot from the first square, Becca watched it vanish in front of her. What the hell? Steve had to stretch his legs to reach the third square, but he was able to make it without having to jump. The second square disappeared behind him.

"Wait!" Becca yelped.

"Going too fa –" Steve's dry remark broke off when he noticed that the squares were gone. "That's going to be a problem."

"Only a little one." There was no way Becca was going to be able to get across on leftover squares without the nails sounding again.

"Maybe they'll come back when I get to the stairs?"

"Or maybe they won't. Plus that'll double our time and… and you know what? Make some room." Becca sprung off of her heels and took a running step onto a square that brought her slightly closer to Steve.

"I don't think we're both going to –" Becca leapt off the square and landed next to Steve on one foot. Her body continued to tilt forward, the momentum carrying her too far. She would have put her other foot down on the red if Steve hadn't grabbed her waist, steadying her. "– fit."

Becca held onto the arm around her waist to balance herself and smiled. "You were saying?"

"I was saying it's the one on your left next."

"That's what I thought."

They worked out a system in which Steve would move to a square first, since he took up more space, with Becca hopping on beside him. Becca usually kept to standing on one foot or the tips of her toes until she had the square to herself. This would have made crossing without incident difficult, but Steve steadied her when she wobbled or landed close to an edge.

The times when Steve caught her and pulled her close, Becca experienced a warm, fluttering sensation in her chest that wasn't entirely due to another successful landing. Becca knew that Steve wasn't interested in her and she was _trying_ to push her feelings aside, but it wasn't easy when she had a gorgeous man wrapping a strong arm around her, making sure she landed safely before teasing her about another "graceful" landing with a ridiculously adorable grin.

"That was really nice," Steve commented as Becca clung to his jacket to avoid teetering forward and stepping on his toes. "I think you almost nailed the landing that time."

"If your feet weren't so huge, this wouldn't be an issue," Becca shot back. Steve just grinned. Ugh.

Reaching the stairs was almost a relief. The remaining back squares faded, leaving the floor glowing red until the next maze-goers came along. Even if making it across the platform had been a minor trial, it felt good to be on the other side.

"All right. Yay team." Becca held out a fist toward Steve. He glanced at her fist and looked back up, eyebrows knitting together. "Come on, fist bump. Don't leave me hanging." Steve made a fist and lifted it so she could complete the gesture. Not the most enthusiastic fist bump Becca had ever participated in, but she'd take it.

A new corridor stretched out from the stairs. Becca touched the stone wall on her right as they followed it. At an intersection that offered three paths to travel down, they ran into other people for the first time. The couple warned them off the direction Becca would have chosen and took the middle path. If Steve and Becca reached another obstacle at the same time as the couple they'd have to wait, so Becca took the left one.

The maze twisted and turned around them, but Becca thought that they must be making good time. Really, for all she knew, they could be hopelessly lost. Yet, she wasn't at all bored, so she didn't mind. It wasn't as if they were navigating the maze in silence. Becca had discovered that Steve seemed more animated when she was talking about herself, so she tended to stick to stories in her life, ones that she considered entertaining.

Sometimes, however, Steve volunteered information about himself, about being a kid in Brooklyn, going to college for art. He gave her enough that Becca didn't feel as though he was hiding his life from her. Granted, there was a vague gap in time, a gap that Becca had taken to thinking of as "The Army Days," but she refused to press him about it. She had already told Steve that he was free to talk about that period if and when he wanted to. Asking any more would have been unfair of her.

From a corridor that had become considerably narrower as they walked through, they entered an open space. The floor was a perfect circle. The walls offered five new paths. In the center of the room was a metal disk raised off the floor by a few inches. The railings spaced evenly on the disk reminded Becca of a merry-go-round. This had to been the next obstacle. Maybe it would direct them to the correct path?

Becca approached the disk and stepped up onto it between two of the railings. Etched on the disk was a six-pointed star.

"Looks like we made it to the center," said Steve. He had remained on the ground, leaning on the edge of a railing.

"Yup." Becca unzipped the outside pocket of her bag and took out the stopwatch. "One hour and eight minutes," she announced. "Let's both try to remember that."

"Got it."

Becca tucked the stopwatch back in the bag. As she did so, her knuckles brushed against the familiar shape of a prescription bottle, put away in the main pocket. Her hand lingered there. One hour and eight minutes, plus another twenty-ish between this place and her apartment. Not enough time that she should be taking her meds. Also, she would rather not take them in front of Steve.

"So what do you think?"

Becca started. "What? Oh." She zipped her bag shut. "This looks kind of like a merry-go-round, right?"

"That's what I was thinking," Steve agreed. "I'll try giving you a push."

Becca grasped the railings closest to her and braced herself. Steve gripped the railing he'd been leaning on and pushed. The disk didn't move. Steve frowned. He set his feet against the ground and tugged at the railing. The disk emitted a sound like grinding metal, but refused to budge.

"Okay, Muscles, don't break it," Becca chided. "Maybe I'm not supposed to be on it." She hopped off.

Steve attempted to spin the disk again. No movement. Becca joined him, thinking there might be some kind of sensor or someone behind a camera waiting for everyone to touch the disk before flipped a switch. Nothing.

"Maybe it's not like a merry-go-round." Becca stepped back onto the disk. "Maybe there's a clue on here that we're missing."

"Could be." Steve stepped up between the adjacent railings.

The disk emitted a whir like the engine of a car revving up and began to spin. Becca clutched the railings, unsteady for a second at the unexpected movement. She tried to keep her eyes on the path they had come from, but as the speed of the disk increased, she got dizzy. Rather than take a chance on throwing up, she shut her eyes and waited.

When the disk stopped completely, Becca opened her eyes. Every path looked the same, so she had no idea which was which. She sank down and sat on the disk to try and settle her stomach. She took several deep breaths through her nose.

"You all right?" Steve crouched down to her level.

"I will be." Becca let out a breath. "I think this was supposed to confuse us. Dirty, but effective."

Steve pointed to one of the paths. "That's the one we came from."

Becca craned her neck to see the path. "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"You… you are unbelievable," Becca laughed. "And I mean that in the best way."

"You got us this far. I figured I could help out this once."

"Okay, help me off this thing and we'll call it square."

Steve jumped down off the disk and extended a hand. Becca scooted to the edge of the disk. She took his hand and slid off the edge and onto her feet. She staggered causing Steve to press his other hand to her lower back.

"Do you want to sit back down?" Steve asked.

"No. No, I'm good." She had needed a second to regain her balance, but the dizziness was fading. "Sorry. Didn't quite stick the landing on that one either."

"That's all right. I'm used to it." Becca smacked Steve's arm. His blue eyes sparked with laughter. "Good to know you're feeling better."

Becca's tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, but she didn't let it pass her lips.

"Much." Steve let her go. Becca tugged on her ponytail, making it tighter, and glanced between the remaining paths. "So these are all fair game."

"Looks like."

Becca chewed on her lip. There was no sense in spending too long thinking it over. Any of the paths could be correct. She nodded toward the one directly in front of them. "How's this one sound?"

"Whatever you pick, I'm following."

"Your trust is appreciated, but probably misplaced." Becca folded her arms. "I tend to make it all up as I go."

"I know." Steve touched her shoulder, nudging her forward. "That's what I like about you."

Becca flushed and shook her head, but couldn't hold back a smile. Steve could go from teasing her to playing nice faster than anyone she had ever met.

"You are ridiculous," she murmured. She walked towards the chosen path with Steve at her side.

His eyebrows rose. "I'm ridiculous?"

"Yup."

"_I'm_ ridiculous?"

"Mhmm." Steve opened his mouth to make a comment, but Becca stopped and put a finger up to his lips. "Hush. We're ridiculous together." She lowered her finger. "So are you with me or what?"

Steve set his hands on his hips and looked down at her with an expression that she was pretty sure was an attempt at severity but was failing to break from something warmer. Becca tipped her head toward the path and winked. He let out a breath that was nearly a laugh, glanced at his feet, and looked back up at her.

"I'm with you."

"Good. Then let's kick this place's ass."

At one hour and forty-two minutes, Becca liked to think they did.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Look at these two working as a team. A ridiculous team. **

**Sadly, The Tunnels (like The Great Z-scape) is not a place that exists. However, there are abandoned subway tunnels you can visit. The Mole People are also a real urban legend. Don't ask me exactly how or why the legend got started, but it _did_ start after Steve's time. That much I can tell you. **

**Something big is coming up next chapter. I hope y'all are excited because I am. Many thanks to all you lovely readers! **


	8. Captain Who?

There was nothing good on TV. Becca flipped vainly through the channels, hoping to find a show that would keep her entertained enough to make it through lunch. Otherwise, it was back to reruns on Netflix. She took another bite of her veggie wrap, an unusually light meal but she was going out with a couple of friends for an early dinner and drinks. _Law & Order: SVU_, _Family Guy_, _Click_, sports, sports news, more sports. Come on.

"And that's another goal for –"

"– three eggs and one –"

There had to be something halfway decent on.

"Oh, that dress. It's –"

"– with Captain America making –"

"– put that together and –"

Wait. Becca flipped back to the History Channel. Text in the corner of the screen identified the program as _Captain America: The First Superhero_.

" – started as a tactic to get the people of America to buy bonds to support the war effort set the stage for the greatest war hero of all time."

Becca stared at the screen, which showed Captain America surrounded by a group of soldiers all of whom seemed to be listening intently to the hero. He had on a tight suit with a star sewn onto the chest. Although the picture was black and white, Becca recalled seeing the same outfit in a long ago history class drawn in red, white, and blue. She also thought she remembered some kind of mask or helmet, but Captain America wasn't wearing one in this reel.

Except this couldn't be Captain America because it was definitely Steve.

"I remember being in the Hydra camp," recollected an elderly man identified as Private Arnold Kowalski. "And he showed up saying he was going to get us all out. And we were all, 'who is this guy?' you know?" The picture changed to Steve/Captain America pouring over a map. "Someone asked him, and he just said, 'Captain America.' And I remember thinking, 'What the hell kind of name is that?' But he said he would get us out and he did."

Maybe this was one of those programs that didn't have actual footage, so the History Channel hired actors to recreate scenes. Becca rubbed her jaw. Steve never mentioned that he had done any acting, but he could have. He might not want to bring it up because the show wasn't a big movie deal or a popular TV program. Still, being in the army and all, she would have thought he'd be proud to get to play Captain America.

Now that she was watching this, Becca recalled that her U.S. History teacher in high school had made a big lesson plan out of Captain America, but, like most historical figures, he had been quickly forgotten after the class ended. She remembered some vague details, but not his face, that was for sure.

Steve's face, however, was perfectly clear because she was looking at it. He even had the same hair cut up until Wednesday. He must have filmed this recently. Being on leave, Steve had a lot of spare time, so that much made sense. They should do something to celebrate. She thought this was a big enough deal to merit drinks at the very least.

"Yes, that was a Hydra camp in Krossberg." The new speaker was Agent Peggy Carter. This footage had a yellowish tinge that marked it as being recorded in an earlier decade. "Steve, that is, Captain Rogers –" Steve… Rogers? Becca frowned. "– was a good person, apart from being an excellent soldier. He saved a lot of men that day. He saved a lot of men throughout the war."

Becca's first thought was that the yellowing of the image was actually an effect and Agent Carter was now talking about Steve, but why have people acting out being interviewed? And why talk about the actor playing Captain America? It wasn't like he was famous. Unless…

Steve/Captain America picked up a compass with a picture of Agent Carter tucked inside and shut it. He glanced at the camera, his eyes momentarily flashing a familiar expression of embarrassment.

"_Captain America_ will return in a moment."

What if Captain America had a grandson that had been named after him? Becca didn't remember anything about Captain America having kids, much less grandkids, but it was possible. Maybe the whole situation had been kept quiet? Having a child without getting married was a huge scandal in those days. The government wouldn't want to tarnish the reputation of their superhero, especially since she was pretty sure he had died during the war. They might have put the child in witness protection.

Becca considered that angle as she chewed another bite of her wrap. But wouldn't people know now? Giving Steve the same name wasn't exactly subtle nor was putting him on TV. Plus, there was bound to be at least one person in the army who was a huge Captain America fan. Someone would find out. Then again, maybe people did know, and she was blowing this all out of proportion. History was not her forte.

Instead of speculating further, Becca took out her phone and ran a Google search on "Captain America Steve Rogers."

_Error 199999. _

Refreshing the page only gave her the same error message, so Becca tried a search on "Captain America."

_Error 199999. _

Great. Becca smacked her phone against her hand. Technology never worked when she needed it. She refreshed the page, which had no effect, and attempted "Steve Rogers." The same error message loaded. Becca huffed in frustration and googled "Error 199999." This time she got a list of suggested pages, detailing various error messages and how to get rid of them. However, she didn't see anything about the particular error affecting her phone.

"Fuck this," Becca mumbled. There was one person who would have the answers. She called Steve.

"_Hello."_

"Hello, hello. How's it going?"

"_I'm doin' all right. How are you?_"

"Good." Becca turned the TV volume down, but left it on.

"_You found the next place already?"_

"Not yet." Becca wondered how to best phrase her question. Asking if he was related to Captain America seemed too abrupt. She should lead up to it. "I actually called because, um, have you done any acting at all? Possibly in the last year?"

There was a pause. When Steve spoke, his tone was more cautious.

"_Why are you asking?"_

He was hedging, but Becca had already started down this road so she was going to follow through.

"Well, because I am currently staring at your face on my television," she explained. "The History Channel is showing this program on Captain America, and either I am looking at you or Captain America is your doppelganger. Or you are a vampire and I have discovered your secret, in which case I want in." Becca laughed.

Silence.

Becca bit on the inside of her lip, stifling her laughter. On the screen, Steve/Captain America had his back to the camera. He gripped a round shield, tilted back so it was plainly visible. The image jerked and focused on the shield. There was star painted on the center like the one on his suit. Bits of information were coming back to her. They had called him another name besides Captain America at first, one that had to do with the star.

"_I can explain, but I'd like to do it in person_."

Wow, this sounded serious. Maybe Steve really was the grandson of Captain America. That would be kind of awesome.

"Uh, sure. Like, now?"

"_If you're busy, I –"_

"No, that's fine. I'm breaking for lunch anyway," she assured him. More to the point, Becca really wanted to know what was so important that Steve felt he couldn't say it over the phone. If it was big, he probably wouldn't want to be at a place where they might be overheard. "Would you like to come over? Ally won't be home for a few hours. Or if you want me to come to you that's fine, too."

"_I'll come to you if that's all right." _

"Yeah, of course." Becca prodded the end of her wrap. "Did you eat lunch already? 'Cause I can make you something."

"_I'm fine, but thanks." _His voice sounded a little less edgy.

"Mhmm. I'll see you in a bit then."

"_Bye, Becca."_

"Bye."

Becca hadn't been expecting a reaction that was quite so mysterious. Neither was she sure exactly when Steve would be arriving as she had no idea where he lived.

With the remainder of the wrap jammed into her mouth, Becca went to dump her dishes into the dishwasher. She hurriedly changed into actual clothes and took her meds so she wouldn't look and act like a mess. Once that was finished, Becca jumped back onto the couch and turned the volume up on the TV. Until Steve got here, she was finding out as much as she could about Captain America.

* * *

><p>Some of the stairs were missing. That wasn't true, but Steve felt as though the walk up to Becca's apartment was taking considerably less time than it had a week ago. It was just his nerves.<p>

Becca had been bound to stumble onto the truth. There was a point, back when they had first begun their "adventures," during which Steve considered writing off anything she found as coincidence until he faced the world as Captain America again. It would be easy. The truth sounded bonkers, and he knew it. Becca had proven the fact by drawing the conclusion that he was "acting" as Captain America. Once everyone believed he was Captain America, there wouldn't be a need to convince Becca.

That point quickly passed. Becca deserved to hear him say it. Steve had hesitated, uncertain of the outcome, but her phone call told him that it was time. Despite the nerves, it was also a relief. Becca might like to tease, but beneath all that she had been nothing but nice. For all her whirlwind personality, she'd given him something steady and reliable so he didn't feel quite so lost. Steve cared about her, and he wouldn't be much of a friend by keeping a secret this big.

On the drive over, Steve had found himself going over the four potential outcomes of his confession.

One: Becca accepted the truth and agreed to keep his secret. This was the outcome Steve was hoping for. He didn't expect Becca to accept the truth immediately. She would need to be convinced, but he was prepared to put in the effort.

Two: Becca accepted the truth and agreed to keep his secret, but accidently let it slip. Steve had enough faith in Becca that he didn't think she'd go behind his back to tell all of her friends. If it slipped out, as he had told Nick, Steve doubted that Becca's friends would believe her. If they did, then people would know. Steve was prepared to deal with the situation should that happen.

Three: Becca didn't believe the truth but chose to continue their friendship regardless. Steve considered this the least likely scenario. Becca might think he was joking at first, but when he pressed the matter, it would stop sounding like a joke. Rather than ignoring the situation, which would be about the only way to remain friends, Steve thought outcome four had a better chance of following.

Four: Becca didn't believe the truth, decided he was crazy, and they never saw each other again. Of all potential reactions, this would be the hardest for him. Steve couldn't blame Becca if she reacted this way. Had anyone told him when he joined the army that one day he'd wake up in the future with his body not having aged a day, Steve would have felt the same. But it was the truth, and Becca should know even if it meant losing her.

The same four scenarios rolled through his head as Steve reached the landing on Becca's floor. Steve would do his best to convince her. That's all he could do. He knocked on her door, which swung immediately open.

"Hi," Becca greeted. "Come on in."

"Thanks."

Steve stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket. He glanced at the TV. The screen was black. At least he wasn't going to have to watch himself. Steve drew a folder, bent almost in half, from an inside pocket before hanging the jacket on an empty hook. Becca's eyes flicked towards the folder, but she didn't ask about it.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?" she offered.

"I'm all right, but thank you," Steve declined.

"Sure. Let's sit then."

Becca walked over to the couch. She picked the same end she had on his last visit, only this time she crossed her legs and sat facing the other end of the couch. Steve followed her over and took the empty cushion opposite. He set the folder on the coffee table. Again Becca gave the folder a fleeting look.

"So what'd you want to tell me?"

Steve took a deep breath. "Becca, what I have to say… It's going to sound a little crazy, but it's the truth."

"Okay." Instead of looking worried, Becca gave him an encouraging smile. "Whatever it is, I'll listen."

So far everything was going as smooth as it possibly could, but Steve's voice seemed to have stopped working. It felt like there was a lump in his throat, blocking the words from coming out. Steve stared down at his lap, curling his fingers into fists. His knuckles stood out bright white against the rest of his hand. A few words and this could all be over. The thought suffocated him with unanticipated swiftness.

"Steve, are you…" Steve looked up at Becca. Concern had settled in her wide, brown eyes, but the encouraging smile lingered. "Are you related to Captain America?"

The question unclogged his throat. Becca was close, close enough that he felt better about saying, "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Becca's nose wrinkled. "How can you be 'not exactly' related to someone?"

"Because I am Captain America." Regardless of how Becca took his words, Steve found a sliver of relief in finally telling someone.

Becca stared at him. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was expecting him to tell her it was a joke, but when he didn't, her lips thinned in confusion.

"You mean, like, you're going to become the new Captain America?" she questioned. "Like you're going to carry on his legacy or something?"

Steve was prepared for a lot of questions, so he wasn't dismayed when Becca didn't comprehend what he was saying.

"No. I'm Captain America. The only Captain America. At least as far as I know."

"_The_ Captain America?" Becca's eyebrows knit. "From World War II, Captain America?"

"Yes."

"The one that died?"

"Yes." Becca crossed her arm, looking at him in disbelief. Steve caught his error, shaking his head. "No. I didn't die."

"Steve, even if Captain America didn't die, he'd be like… ninety."

"Ninety-four."

"Whatever," Becca huffed. "The point is that you're way too young to be Captain America."

"I know it looks that way," said Steve patiently. "But only because I was twenty-six when I was frozen."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Steve decided that giving her a full explanation was a better tactic. "I can't explain the exact science, but I can tell you what I know. Hear me out. Please."

Becca put a hand up to her face, rubbing her temple. She took in a breath and blew it out while examining him like she was seeing a stranger sitting across from her. Steve willed her accept his request.

"You're serious?" she asked finally.

"Yes."

Becca eyed him skeptically, but threw up her hands. "Fine. Fine, go ahead."

"The serum I was given, it did more than make me stronger and fix all my health problems. When I crashed in the Arctic, I froze." Steve remembered the pain of it, ice burning his skin as he lay there waiting to die. The burning had gradually numbed while Steve had imagined the dance that he'd never have with Peggy until he drifted off. "Only the serum didn't let me die. It reacted with the ice and it… preserved me," he explained, repeating the same phrase that had been used when Nick explained the situation to him.

Steve looked down at his enhanced body. At first, it hadn't even felt like his body, but he'd grown used to it. He'd saved a lot of people with his gifted strength. He looked back up to Becca. She was tugging on a corner of the pillow tucked by her side, but otherwise appeared to be listening attentively. Whether Becca believed him, Steve couldn't yet say.

"This organization, S.H.I.E.L.D., found me a little over a month ago and woke me up. I was asleep for almost seventy years. It was like being in a coma. I didn't have dreams. When I closed my eyes there was ice. Then, I was opening them again, and the ice was gone. The only difference is that my body didn't age. The ice kept me exactly as I was in 1945."

"If we have a serum like this, one that can preserve people…" said Becca once Steve had paused long enough to make it clear that he was finished. "Why doesn't anyone know about it? The government couldn't keep it secret for that long, not if people already saw the effects."

"Dr. Erskine was the only one who knew the exact formula. He was killed by Hydra the day they gave me the serum."

"I'm sorry." Becca blinked like she had surprised herself by speaking. Steve smiled. He had gotten through to her, maybe only by a hair but that was something.

"That's all right. It was a long time ago."

Becca pulled the pillow into her lap, still fiddling with the same corner. "You're obviously convinced of what you're saying. And you don't seem… crazy. I mean, this sounds crazy, but I've been around you for going on a month now and you're…" Becca shrugged. She flicked at the corner. "What's in the folder?"

Steve picked up the folder and offered it to her. "It's my file. From S.H.I.E.L.D."

Before driving here, Steve had skimmed through the folder, having read its contents shortly after he had woken up. Becca didn't need to see everything. There was information of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s that wasn't his to share with a civilian. Steve had selected the best evidence from the remaining documents, leaving the rest in a pile at the apartment.

Becca took the folder. "What's the 'G' stand for?" she asked, surveying the front cover.

"Grant."

"Mmm," Becca hummed as she opened the folder.

Steve sat quietly and allowed Becca time to browse through the documents. She picked them up, reading over the information. Occasionally she brought a paper close to her face, squinting at it and then holding it out in front of her as if the distance might prove its authenticity.

The folder might have been helping. Becca was peering over everything with such a serious expression that it was difficult to tell. She hadn't kicked him out. Steve thought that was a pretty good sign.

When Becca's lips curved into a soft smile, it was such an unexpected change that Steve abruptly asked, "What?"

Becca took a picture out of the folder, which was resting on the pillow, and flipped it so that he could see.

"You?"

It was a photograph of him before the serum. He was in his training gear, the large helmet swallowing his head. He was standing at attention. The straightness of his body made him seem even skinnier than his already thin frame. He looked like a kid pretending to be a soldier. Steve winced. Becca must think that he looked absurd.

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "Before the serum."

"I don't know what you're wincing about. I think he's cute." Becca flipped the picture back towards her. "Looks like an absolute sweetheart, but, like, secretly a tough guy, too."

Heat rose in Steve's cheeks. Fortunately, Becca took out another picture, holding the two side-by-side, and didn't notice. Women had called Steve "cute" before, but always in the way that meant he reminded them of a little kid. Becca hadn't made it sound like that kind of cute. He sort of liked the way she said it.

Becca set the pictures in the folder and flipped back through the documents. She folded her hands beneath her chin, surveying the paper in front of her.

"Date of birth?" she quizzed.

"July 4, 1918."

"Parents?"

"Sarah and Joseph Rogers."

"Address?"

"My old address?" Becca nodded. "14047 Brooklyn Street."

"Favorite food?"

Steve didn't remember that being in there. "Apple cake."

"Commanding officer?"

"Colonel Phillips."

Becca lifted a page. "Why'd you crash the plane?"

"There were weapons on board aimed a number of American cities. If I hadn't put it down, a lot of people would have died."

Becca shut the folder and put it on the coffee table. "Well, you know what's in the folder. I'll give you that." She shifted uncertainly. "But pictures can be photoshopped, documents made to look official."

"They're real, I promise." Although Steve had sworn to be patient, he was beginning to feel frustrated.

Becca sighed. "You realize how totally nuts this sounds, right?"

"I know."

"I'm not on some weird reality show am I?"

"No."

Becca sighed again. "Do you have the suit? Or the shield?"

"Not exactly." There had been no need for either, so S.H.I.E.L.D. had them. If he asked Nick, Steve would probably get them quickly. S.H.I.E.L.D. moved fast. "But I could get them."

"That's okay." Becca turned the pillow around and worried another corner. "I don't know, Steve. This… this is something that happens in movies and comic books."

Steve had one last card to play, if she accepted it. "What if I showed you?"

"Showed me?"

"Some of what I can do."

Becca gripped the pillow as if she was readying herself to throw it at him. "You are not trying to lift my furniture."

"Not here." Steve had searched for a place they weren't likely to be seen after promising himself that he would tell her the truth. "Close by."

"Where exactly?"

"About twenty minutes drive south. Off the highway, along the water."

Becca slowly loosened her hold on the pillow. "I guess, I guess if you think you're Captain America you wouldn't do anything… bad. I want to still trust you." She tipped her head back. "Okay. I can't believe I'm saying this, but okay. _But_ I'm texting my friend Adam to let him know where I'm going and telling him to expect a call from me in the next hour."

"All right." If it made her Becca feel safe, then Steve was willing to agree to about anything. "But if you wouldn't mind not telling him who I am. I'd like to avoid the attention for now."

"Well, I don't think he'd believe even if I told him," noted Becca while using her phone. "But don't worry. I'm just saying that I'm going with you, not Captain America." She got to her feet. "Lemme get my things. Then we'll go."

Steve stood as Becca wandered out of the living room with her attention still on the phone in her hand, muttering under her breath about "errors." This was going to be his last chance to convince her. He got his jacket from the coat rack and tucked the folder back inside before pulling it on.

Things could have gone worse. Becca seemed uncertain, which was better than a flat out rejection. She might be going with him in part with the expectation of seeing him fail, in which case he would have to admit that he wasn't Captain America. However, Steve knew what he could do and that would play in his favor because part of Becca wanted to believe him. Had he gotten a different sense, Steve wouldn't have offered to show her anything past his file.

Becca reappeared with her purse and took one of the jackets from the nearly full coat rack. They left her apartment in silence. Steve presumed that Becca would have more questions, but either she was lost in thought or electing to ignore him. She could close herself off better than Steve would have believed.

Steve drove them out of the city. It wasn't long before he took a turn off of the highway onto a dirt road. There was a sign next to the road with a smiling sun and the words "Camp Sandy Hook." The road led to a summer camp. While the place had been empty when he walked through, closed for the spring, Steve wasn't taking chances. He came to a stop halfway down the road.

"We're getting off."

The bike wobbled as Becca slid off the back. Steve got off and rolled the bike off the road and into the trees. Becca didn't move from the road. She surveyed the woods with trepidation mounting behind her eyes.

"It's this way," said Steve, trying to make his tone sound as unthreatening as possible. "A short walk straight through. Leads right to the water, like I said."

Becca didn't budge. "Are there people at that camp?"

"No. At least, I don't think so."

"So basically we're alone in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah." This looked bad, but Steve didn't have another option that was a relatively secure location. He couldn't bring her to a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility because Nick has made his opinion on Becca clear. "I needed someplace pretty secure, but I'm not gonna make you come with me. If you want, we can go back."

Becca ground a heel into the dirt, biting on the corner of her lip. "Walk."

Steve turned from her and walked into the trees. He heard Becca following him, snapping small branches and rustling through leaves rotting from last fall. Once he glanced over his shoulder to see Becca watching him carefully with an arm hidden in her purse. Undoubtedly she was clutching her phone or a concealed weapon. The back on his neck instinctively prickled, but Steve ignored it.

The tree line ended a few feet from the water's edge. There was a No Fishing sign set near the water, but vines had twined around it, marking it by a few years at least. A barge puffed steadily along farther down, but apart from the large vessel the water was empty of boats. Neither did Steve spot any people along this bank. The bank opposite was too far away to be a concern.

Steve took off his jacket and hung it over a low branch.

"What're you gonna do?" Becca asked from a spot under a nearby tree.

"Run."

"I've seen you run."

"That was more of a jog."

Becca gave him a doubtful look, but shrugged and leaned back against the tree.

Steve moved out onto the clear ground and let out a long breath. Then, he began to run. He started off steady, but quickly pushed himself to move faster. Muscles, long unused, contracted painfully the harder Steve ran. He pushed through the pain, taking deep gulps of air as the world around him blurred. Adrenaline surged through him, and Steve grinned. It felt good to be able to run again.

Steve was tempted to keep running until he was in danger of being spotted, but Becca was waiting behind him. He skidded, his feet tearing up clumps of grass and dirt, and pivoted. He sprinted back in the direction he had come from, arms pumping at his sides and sweat beading along his temples.

When Becca appeared his vision, Steve slowed gradually to a jog before stopping all together. He set his hands on his hips and breathed. He wasn't in peak condition anymore. Once he was able, he needed to start up running again. Still, Steve had run faster than any other man could.

Becca gaped at him. Her hand was no longer in her purse but hovering in front of her mouth.

"Oh my god," she gasped, eyed wide with wonder. "That was… holy shit. You are _fast_."

Steve chuckled. "You should see me on a good day."

"How…" Becca shook her head like she was clearing out her thoughts. "Okay, okay so you're fast. Really, really fast. But that doesn't… that can't… Bend that." She pointed at the No Fishing sign.

The sign was attached to a thick metal pole buried in the ground. Steve went over to it with Becca trailing him. He should be able to bend the pole and bend it back. If there was a dent, Steve thought it wouldn't matter. It didn't look like people came out here much anyway.

"Stand back," Steve ordered. Should the pole break, pieces of it could go flying. Becca shuffled back obediently.

Steve grabbed the pole in both hands right beneath the sign. He put a foot against the bottom of the pole to keep it from coming out of the ground, set his teeth, and _pulled_. Muscles in his arms bulged. The metal whined under the pressure and, inch by inch, it gave. Steve bent the top of the pole until a fissure appeared. The sign now pointed close to horizontal. He let go and stepped back.

Becca crept forward. Her cheeks were pale as she touched the fissure, moving as if she were in a daze or about to collapse. Steve prepared himself to catch her if she fainted.

"It's a dream," Becca whispered. "I'm dreaming."

"No, you're not dreaming."

She ignored him. "Maybe…"

Becca lifted her hands and gazed at them. Her fingers curved inward and pressed into her palms. Her hands trembled with the effort of making her nails bite deeper into the flesh. She was going to make herself bleed.

"Stop." Steve gripped Becca's wrists. She stopped, but she kept her confused gaze on her hands.

"Maybe I took too…" Becca trailed off, staring at the red crescents cut into her palms.

Steve's concern grew. Maybe this had all been a mistake. He wanted her to know the truth, not have a breakdown.

"Look at me, Becca." Becca blinked up at him, eyes glazed. "This isn't a dream."

"It's not?"

"No."

"And… and it's not some kind of elaborate joke?"

"No."

"You're Captain America?"

Steve nodded. "I'm Captain America."

Becca frowned. Steve felt her wrists twitch in his hands, and he let her go. Becca dropped one of her hands, but the other she pressed lightly into the center of his chest. Her frown deepened when it didn't pass through and he remained as he was. Steve waited, unsure what to expect next.

"Well…" Becca lowered her hand. When she peered up at him, her eyes had regained some clarity. "I suppose this explains why you never text me." Steve burst out laughing causing Becca to look sheepish. "Well, I wondered."

"I just…" Steve shook his head. Of all the things for Becca to say after finally believing him, this was really something. However, Steve didn't want Becca to think that he was laughing at her, so he swallowed the rest of his laughter. "I haven't had any practice."

"We'll practice then. And the movies you haven't seen, we'll definitely have to make that a thing. Music, are you up on music? You have to hear…"

Becca rambled on about all the things he had missed, commenting various times throughout that he really ought to get a list started. Steve let her talk, glad to see her energy gradually returning. He had convinced her, and it didn't sound like Becca was planning to walk away from him any time soon. Actually, Steve wasn't sure when he was going to find time to sleep between all the catching up she was planning for him.

"Becca," Steve interrupted finally. Becca paused in the middle of an explanation of pizza rolls. "This all sounds great, but I have to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

"Don't tell anyone that I'm Captain America."

"Oh no." Becca rolled her eyes. "I'm going to tell everyone you're Captain America because they will _totally_ believe me." She patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, Steve. Even though this is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, it's not my secret to share."

"Thanks. Now I need to you move back again. I'm gonna fix this sign."

"Right." Becca shuffled back. "So this S.H.I.E.L.D., they're the only people who know about you?"

"Some of S.H.I.E.L. D." Steve grunted as he bent the sign back into place.

"Do you do top secret missions for them or something?"

"No. Not yet." Steve wiped his hands off on his pants. "I'm still figuring out what I'm going to do."

"What, so you just sit around all the time?" Becca questioned with incredulity.

Steve shrugged. "I go out sometimes. I go to the gym, take a walk. You met me in a park remember?"

"Yeah, but… on your own?"

"Not always. I'm not on my right own now," Steve pointed out.

For the second time, Becca caught him off guard with a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, face buried near his shoulder. As before, he felt as though his body grew slightly lighter. Steve returned the hug, holding Becca to him.

"No, you're not." Becca looked up and flashed him a smile that made Steve suddenly and excruciatingly aware of how close she was pressed against him. "Fortunately for you, I am an expert at the twenty-first century, having lived it for most of my life, and have a very flexible schedule. If you ever want help with anything, you let me know."

"That's real nice of you, Becca. Thanks." Steve extracted himself from her arms with as much feigned casualness as he could muster.

"No problem. Just don't expect me to go all easy on you because you're an old guy," she warned.

"I won't."

They headed back into the woods with Steve picking out the path. Becca took out her phone to make a brief call to her friend to assure him that she was fine.

"Question," said Becca as she dropped the phone back in her purse.

"Sure."

"What were the dinosaurs like?"

Steve was actually glad that his status as Captain America didn't put Becca off from teasing him.

"I'm not _that _old."

"Was the transition from woolly mammoth to motorcycle hard for you?" Becca grinned when Steve gave her a sideways look. "Was your prom theme 'fire'?"

"I don't know. I didn't go to prom." The girl Steve had liked at the time had turned him down. He had spent the night in bed sketching them at the prom with her in the dress she had talked to her friends about all week. But Steve was too embarrassed to tell that to Becca. "I don't dance."

"What do you mean? You can't dance or you won't?"

"Can't."

Steve thought of Peggy, who had promised to show him how. He had yet to open her folder, to find out if she was still alive, but remembering her hurt less with each passing day. He would look when he got back to his apartment. He felt ready to know. Either way, it was too late for them. Someday another partner would show him.

"Hmmm." Becca inspected his feet. "Guess we'll have to see about that."

* * *

><p>During the news the following morning, Steve's cell phone went off. He kept the phone charged, but it went unused since no one but S.H.I.E.L.D. had the number. Apart from one other person. Steve swiped up the phone, smiling at the familiar number.<p>

"_Still Captain America?"_

With the basic knowledge an agent had given him on texting, Steve typed back.

"Last time I checked."

After a few seconds, the phone dinged again.

"_Then I guess we'd better start getting this texting thing nailed down."_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Well, it was only a matter of time before Becca found out. It's a great source of relief to both of them as Steve no longer has to keep a big secret and Becca no longer has so many questions about why Steve appeared to have lived under a rock. I was quite excited to write this chapter as it's the first big hurtle they cross over together (although make no mistake, it's the first of many). **

**I _think _I have all the correct numbers, dates, and facts about Steve from the MCU. If I dropped a year somewhere, apologies. There was conflicting research and math to be done. Bonus points to anyone who knew the significance of the number 199999.**

**While I would love to take credit for all of the Steve-is-old jokes, I heard "Was your prom theme 'fire'?" on _Two and a Half Men_ a looooooong time ago. For some reason, it stuck with me. **

**Finally, thanks for the continued support. Y'all are the best. **


	9. Swing It, Partner

"Rebecca?"

Becca discarded the magazine on the rounded table beside her. In place of the male nurse who had called her name at the last appointment three weeks ago stood a woman with dark curls and dazzling white teeth who was undoubtedly still in school. The change made no difference to Becca as long as she remained with Dr. Barrett.

"Right this way," beckoned the nurse, Megan, as her sticker covered nametag denoted.

Becca followed Megan out of the waiting room and through the busy hallways. Her nose filled with the scent of cleaning materials and underneath a riper scent that could not be pinpointed to an exact source other than the entirety of medical treatment centers. Despite two stays in hospitals, or perhaps because of them, the smell always made her feel mildly sick to her stomach.

"How's your neck feeling today, Rebecca?"

"With the meds? Fine," Becca replied. "And it's Becca, please. I'm only Rebecca when I'm in trouble with my parents."

Megan giggled as she ushered Becca into one of the rooms. Becca set her purse and jacket on an empty chair in the corner before hopping up on the examining table.

"I'm just gonna take your blood pressure and then we'll get you changed and take some x-rays," said Megan, setting down Becca's file on the examining table.

"Sure."

Becca pushed up the sleeve on her right arm and held it out so Megan could wrap the cuff around it. Since she had no idea what the numbers meant, Becca didn't even bother looking up at the gauge mounted on the wall. She expected Megan to jot down the number in her file and go wait outside while she changed, but Megan didn't leave.

"Hmmm," Megan hummed.

Megan let the air leak from the cuff and undid the velcro strap while Becca eyed the gauge herself, even though it was of no help. "Hmmm" didn't sound good. Becca turned from the gauge as Megan opened the file, trailing down the sheet with a pen.

"Your blood pressure is a little high today. Any idea why that might be?" Megan asked while writing down the offending number.

If her blood pressure was only a little high, then it wasn't an issue. Becca knew plenty of people who had blood pressure problems at some point. A slightly higher number wasn't dangerous.

"No," Becca lied. "It's probably the Oxy wearing off. I was going to ask Dr. Barrett to up my dosage again."

To Becca's relief, Megan nodded as she picked up the file. "I'll be right outside." She tapped the paper apron that Becca was to change into.

Becca gave a thumbs up to Megan's retreating back. Shit, that was close. Becca blew a breath out of her nose. The last appointment had gone well, better even than the appointment before it, so she'd assumed that everything would be fine. Becca stripped down to her underwear and pulled the apron over her arms. No, everything was still fine. She had made it fine. As long as Dr. Barrett didn't know, it would continue to go fine.

There was a moment yesterday when Becca thought she had made a serious error and was hallucinating because of it. Come on, Captain America back from the dead? But she wasn't hallucinating, nor was she dreaming. Steve, her friend Steve, was actually Captain America. An array of pictures of him found online as she had walked back up to her apartment had been the final confirmation. The error on her phone had mysteriously disappeared to allow this, but that was technology for you.

Becca was still wrapping her head around everything, but needing to come to terms with finding out a friend was a ninety-four year old superhero was much better than finding out that the medication she needed was making her hallucinate. And much cooler. Although, Becca had been semi-embarrassed to think she'd called their outings "adventures" when Steve had led rescue missions in dangerous warzones and punched Nazis in the face in full superhero attire. Steve pointed out that a lot of what they did was new to him so "adventure" applied, but she was going to avoid the word unless they went somewhere truly spectacular. And it was her turn to pick.

Thin blue slippers waited next to a chair. Becca jammed her feet into them and swung open the door. She tailed Megan to the x-ray room and lay back against the table, allowing the technicians to take x-rays of her spine while she considered places to go with Steve.

It would be best to stick with the city for now. Steve could drive them, but then the location wouldn't be a surprise. Neither was Becca inclined to borrow a friend's car since the last car she borrowed had been totaled in the crash. The place should be free or cheap. Going cool, new places was fun, but as it was becoming a regular occurrence, Becca couldn't afford to take chunks out of her budget. She really ought to spend some time coming up with a list of viable options for the future.

Given the all clear, Becca got up from the table and was returned to her room. Megan set off to get Dr. Barrett, and Becca retrieved her phone from her purse to search for a place to top the underground maze. She swung her legs back and forth, letting her heels thump on the table while she perused sites at random.

Then, Becca realized that Steve had already given her an idea, for the next place at least. To her delight she found there were two viable locations in New York and one of those locations was perfect. Becca grinned. This was not a place she would have chosen on her own, but she was excited to go with Steve.

Becca brought up Steve's messages from that morning and shot him a text.

"Feel like doing something fun Monday night?"

Becca went back to the internet, but after a minute the phone vibrated in her hand.

"_I try to avoid fun on Mondays."_

"Haha 8pm corner of Grand and West Broadway. Wear a tie."

A knock on the door made Becca put her phone on silent and place it beside her. "Come in."

Dr. Barrett entered, a balding, middle-aged man with glasses that were far too large for his thin face. He was forever pushing them up to the top of his nose only to have them slide right back down to the tip. Becca wasn't sure why he didn't get glasses that fit or spring for some contacts.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Becca," he apologized in a thick baritone.

"That's okay."

"How is the neck doing?"

"I'm still experiencing a lot of pain when the meds wear off," Becca relayed. "Apart from that, it's peachy."

"Pain level still the same?"

"Yeah, I'd say I'm still at an eight."

Dr. Barrett set her file on the table and opened it. On top were her x-rays. He pointed at the two once-fractured vertebrae, one at the base of Becca's neck and the other below it.

"Well, the good news is that your vertebrae are healing up. As you can see the fractures are almost completely gone." He indicated a tiny line towards the top of the first vertebrae, the only bit left to be healed.

"That is good," Becca agreed. Hopefully that meant she could get rid of her stupid neck brace.

Dr. Barrett fixed his glasses. "I'm gonna have a look, okay?"

"Yup."

Becca swept her hair over one shoulder to expose the back of her neck. Dr. Barrett gently prodded the damaged area. Without the Oxy, Becca would have been sobbing at added pain of his touch, but all she felt was mild discomfort, as though the doctor was examining a bruise.

"Yup, those vertebrae are healing up fine," Dr. Barrett reported. "But I still want you to sleep with that neck brace until our next appointment."

"All right," Becca sighed.

"So you're still experiencing pain. How about the numbness?" Dr. Barrett pressed against one of her shoulder blades.

Because of the nerves that were compressed or damaged, there were spots along Becca's back that felt like they were perpetually numbed with Novocain. Patches between the back of her shoulders and spine were devoid of feeling as well as pinpricks over her shoulder blades. Becca had been surprised by how little time it took her to get used to the numbness.

"The same," she confessed. "Although I don't even notice it."

"Mhmm." Dr. Barrett pushed up his glasses. "Well, it's only been two months since your accident. Still time for the nerves to heal. Let's have a listen to your heart."

Becca's skin prickled as the cold stethoscope touched it. She took several measured breaths. Hopefully her blood pressure would be the only thing off today. After listening in a few places, Dr. Barrett removed the stethoscope. He sat down on a rolling stool and picked up her file. Becca instinctively reached up and tugged the apron farther up around her shoulders.

"Your heart's a little up, and so, I was told, is your blood pressure," said Dr. Barrett, glancing over the first page in her file. Becca winced. "It's nothing dangerous, in fact they're both normal, healthy numbers, but unusual with Oxycodone unless it's wearing off. When was the last time you took your medication?"

"About…" Becca pressed a button on her phone. She ignored the blinking light which indicated a new message and checked the time. "Two hours ago. It's wearing off earlier. I was hoping I could have my dosage upped again."

Dr. Barrett flipped over a page, making a note. "Yes, I suppose that's what we'll need to do. Shame about the knee surgery. This is why we don't give children such strong pain medication anymore when we can help it. They build up a tolerance, and then if they need it later in life…" Dr. Barrett shook his head and lowered the folder. "Well, you know."

Becca did know. It was deeply frustrating that she had to keep taking a higher dosage of Oxy and, while waiting for approval for the new dosage, having to guess at how much of an extra tablet she could safely swallow. Plus, every time she took more Oxy, she had to take more Adderall to counteract its depressive effects. Nevertheless, Becca would rather take pills than become a huddled, useless ball of pain. Waking up in agony once a night was more than enough.

"Yeah. Here's hoping I heal up fast then."

Dr. Barrett nodded, his glasses sliding against the bridge of his nose. "And you're not experiencing any dizziness, drowsiness, feeling a bit down? You asked at our first meeting, but haven't brought it up since."

"Nope. I was probably getting used to the medication again those first few days." In truth, Becca hadn't brought it up because Dr. Barrett had suggested that if she was experiencing negative symptoms, he could put her on different medication, one he had admitted would be less strong. So she fixed the problem herself. "I feel fine."

"Good, good. I'm glad the medication is helping." Dr. Barrett closed the file and pushed up his glasses. "But I think it's time we had a little conversation about the future. Nothing to be worried about."

Becca smiled, but with trepidation. That's what doctors always said when there was something to be worried about.

"Okay."

"The pain you're experiencing means that that nerves haven't healed much yet, if at all, but that doesn't mean they won't," began Dr. Barrett. "It's only been two months. If your nerves are going to heal, we'd expect the pain to begin to lessen sometime between now and the six month mark, although it can take up to a year for them to fully recover. Of course, there is always the possibly that they will never heal, but there's no reason to lose hope yet."

Becca nodded. This had already been discussed. Becca had not given up hope that her nerves would heal and her life could go back to normal, but she was fully aware that they may not. If she was in pain after a year, what choice would she have but to learn to cope? Becca was fairly certain that she could do so. She was never one to give up a fight.

Dr. Barrett leaned forward. "If the nerves don't heal, you may very well have to take medication for the rest of your life, but it's time to start giving serious consideration to what you're going to do if your nerves show signs of repair. If this happens, even the slightest bit, I recommend you give me a call immediately and we start taking you off Oxycodone."

A spike of fear pierced through Becca's chest. "Take me off – but that's still a lot of pain. I need the medication."

"We would put you other pain medication to counter the effects," soothed Dr. Barrett.

"But you said the other medication wouldn't work as well," Becca stated. She tried to image functioning on even half the pain; what a wreck she'd be. And she would have to rely on people helping her all the time. No way.

"Other medication would not be as effective, it's true. But once the healing begins in earnest you would have only a month or so of discomfort. We discussed that Oxycodone can be addictive?"

"I'm not a drug addict," Becca snapped.

Dr. Barrett held up a placating hand. "I didn't say you were."

Becca licked her bottom lip, trying to calm down. If she acted defensive, Dr. Barrett might think she was addicted and make her switch medications. She would rather not have to start getting Oxy the same way she got her Adderall.

"I need it for the pain," Becca said quietly. "If the pain was gone, then I wouldn't need the medication. Once it's manageable, I'll drop the Oxy no problem."

Dr. Barrett gave her a considering look. "It's something to think about, Becca. I know it sounds difficult to switch medication and I'm sure you'd be fine if we didn't, but it's better not to take a chance. If you do have to take Oxycodone for the rest of your life, there is the risk of damage to your liver and respiratory system. I'd rather we begin to consider alternate options now. Think about it, all right?"

"All right," Becca agreed, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Good. I'll have this prescription filled for you." Dr. Barrett tapped her file against his leg. "Same pharmacy?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Dr. Barrett stood, inexorably lifting his glasses back to the top of his nose. "I'll see you back in a month."

"Uh huh. Bye."

Becca realized that she had dug her nails into the cushion of the examining table. She let go and rubbed her hands together. Drug addicts didn't _need_ prescription medication like she did. She was not a drug addict, and she certainly wasn't going to become one.

The smell of hospital assaulted her nose again, and Becca quickly changed back into her clothes. Once she was ready to leave, Becca picked up her phone. She checked Steve's message while walking towards the waiting room.

"_I take it the tie is my only hint?"_

After his only hint for the maze was to wear comfortable clothing? Becca tsked as she replied.

"You'd better believe it :p"

* * *

><p>A tie wasn't much of a hint. Of all the places Steve would have guessed, not that any guess was likely to come close, none called for a tie. Steve knew that checking out the street corner Becca had given him would prove useless. The actual location would be in the surrounding area. He decided to just go along with Becca's suggestion and wear a tie, pastel blue with thin, diagonal off-white stripes over a white button-up shirt.<p>

The night was unseasonably warm, spurring people outdoors to flood SoHo's sidewalks. Steve was used to the crowds and appreciated the anonymity they offered, but the constant flow was going to make Becca more difficult to spot. She wasn't short, but neither was she tall enough to stick out. At the designated corner, Steve picked through the tangle of people crossing the street and searched for her. He spotted Becca when she stepped away from the windows of a clothing store and waved at him. One look at her had Steve wondering if he should have done more than the tie.

Becca had dolled herself up for the occasion. Her hair was pinned back from her face, falling in long, smooth waves over her shoulders to curl up at the ends, not unlike a popular fashion of women in the 1940s. She wore a slim dark blue dress that had three buttons leading down her chest to the waist and draped loosely from there to right above her knees. Peeking out from the collar of her dress was a silver necklace with a leaf shaped pendant.

"Hey, you," Becca greeted with a red-lipped smile. "Ready for an amazing night?"

"Yeah. Uh, you look…" A number of flattering comments presented themselves at such speed that Steve was having trouble settling on one.

"Swell?" Becca suggested for him. She spun in her heels, the skirt of her dress swirling. "Thank you. I like the tie."

"Thanks."

"Mhmm." Becca looped an arm through his and directed him down West Broadway.

Regardless of the fact that they were friends, Steve was struck by the knowledge that he was finally walking down the street with a beautiful woman on his arm. And Becca was beautiful, all done up and radiating excitement. It made him both elated and slightly flustered to be beside her. He kept quiet as they walked, not wanting a stray word to shatter the moment. He very much doubted that Becca noticed as she was leading him on with all the eagerness of a kid heading for their favorite ice cream store.

Eventually, Becca steered them to the back of a short line waiting beside velvet ropes. She withdrew her arm to rifle through her clutch.

"You have a driver's license, right?"

"Yeah," Steve murmured.

Steve's attention was drawn to the bouncer at the front of the line waving people through. The man's dark hair was slicked back with a slight wave. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and tie, and when he raised an arm suspenders could be glimpsed beneath his jacket.

A lump settled in Steve's stomach. As his eyes slid over the line, the lump grew until it was pressing against his lungs and shortening his breath. The cut of the clothes, the hairstyles, the colors. There was a reason Becca's hair looked familiar. Because it was familiar. The majority of the people in front of him appeared to have stepped out of the 1940s, although missing a few details. Still, the effect was enough to jar him.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Steve ripped his gaze towards Becca. She was staring up at him with concern, lips curved into a small frown. She seemed to shift in his vision like the ground beneath them had grown unsteady.

"Where are we?" Steve asked, a thin rasp diminishing his voice.

Becca's shoulders hunched, as though in reaction to a mistake.

"It's a vintage club, Forties-themed. You mentioned that you can't dance, and I thought it would be mean of me to throw you into a rave so I thought…. I thought… The crowd's younger. There won't be anyone you know." Becca rotated the clutch between her hands. "I'm sorry," she said in a voice threaded with guilt. "We can go."

Steve swallowed thickly, glancing over the line again. Becca was right. The people here were too young for him to run into someone he had known. If this club had existed in his day, which it might not have, he'd never visited it. One night wouldn't be so bad; one chance to wind back the clock. Steve entertained the possibility that it might be good for him to have one last night to help let go. After all, the last thing he'd promised before crashing into the ice was a dance. Besides, Becca had been so excited to come and now appeared to be trying very hard not to look crushed.

"We can stay," Steve decided, despite his lingering sense of unease.

"Oh, no. That's okay." Becca shrugged. "There are plenty of other places we can go."

Steve caught Becca's wrist as she moved to duck under the velvet rope. "I'd like to stay."

Becca eyed him, a hopeful smile trembling as she attempted to suppress it. "Really? You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"If you feel like you need to leave, you'll tell me?"

"I will."

Steve released his hold on Becca's wrist, and she straightened, already leaning eagerly towards the front entrance again. With the line moving at a steady pace, they would not have long to wait.

"How'd I do, by the way?" Becca asked.

"On…?" Becca set her hands on her hips, lowered a shoulder, and posed. "Oh."

Steve swept his gaze over her. He was no expert on women's fashion, but he thought Becca had done well. The material of her dress looked a bit softer than the standard, rough linen. Her shoes weren't quite right; the heels were far too narrow. Apart from that, however, Steve saw no glaring flaws at a quick glance.

"Not bad."

Becca dropped the pose. "It's the heels, right?" She sighed, twisting one ankle to give the shoe a disapproving look. "These are from my closet. I didn't have a ton of time to go shopping, so once I found the dress, I had to call it quits."

"I don't think anyone will notice," Steve assured her, which was apparently the wrong thing to say because Becca poked him in the side.

"At least I didn't have to worry about you. I think I could find a pretty good match for this outfit in my grandpa's old photos."

Steve could have told her that wasn't true. There was plenty different about the clothes he was wearing, but then not so much different as what other men would have shown up in.

"Don't worry, you make it work," Becca continued, patting his shoulder for reassurance. "It's a very… clean look."

"Great," said Steve dryly. "That's what I was going for."

"Hey, don't knock it. Like I said, you make it work. Although…" Becca pursed her lips thoughtfully, twining her necklace around a finger. "Did you start that list?"

Steve had made a list of some of the things Becca suggested that he ought to catch up on, such as Elvis, iPhones, and how to "stream" videos, in a small journal that he'd been using to sketch in. If Becca got a hold of his list it would undoubtedly expand to a staggering length, but Steve saw no reason to keep its existence from her. He could take her suggestions one manageable chunk at a time.

"Yeah, I got one started."

Becca nodded her approval. "You might want to consider adding 'clothes' in case you ever feel like updating the wardrobe. And _if_ you wanted, I would be happy to be your consultant on a shopping trip." She rested a hand over her heart. "I promise not to impose my personal style on you."

Steve mulled over her offer. He was going to have to acquire more modern clothing at some point. A shopping trip would be less of an expedition if Becca was along to offer her decisive opinions. But then, new clothing cost a fair bit of money and using the account S.H.I.E.L.D. allowed him access to had begun to grate on Steve. Soon he had to come to a decision on whether he wanted to work for them and earn that money or find another way to make a living.

"Thanks. I'll think about it," said Steve.

"Sure." Becca tipped her head towards the couple in front of them. They were holding out IDs to the bouncer. "Guess we're next. You ready?"

The lump hadn't quite settled in Steve's stomach, but with Becca's eyes probing him for any signs of doubt, Steve smiled.

"Ready."

Once their IDs had been checked and their outfits deemed acceptable under the bouncer's piercing stare, Steve and Becca were ushered towards a wooden door underneath the words "The Live Step." Steve opened the door for Becca, and the first swell of swing music crested over him. Steve's hold on the door tightened, but he wrenched his hand free with determination and walked into the club.

The interior was all polished wood; it ran across the floor, scuffed by the tread of thousands of shoes, up carved panels along the walls to the ceiling, glinting in the light of lamps suspended within inches of the boards. Thick mauve curtains draped over the places where there were windows. The same curtains hung on either side of the stage on which a twelve-piece band was playing. Along one wall ran a long bar with three bartenders flitting between customers, some of whom sat in high chairs while others took their drinks over to a cluster of tables. The majority of the club was left open for those who wanted to dance, and there were plenty of people paired off, swirling around each other, pressed intimately close or following a series of steps to a familiar dance.

As Steve took it all in, he experienced the curious sense of vertigo he had while in line. He had spent these past weeks acclimating to the modern world, coming to terms with the impossibility of seeing home again anywhere but through a screen. Yet here it was, missing only the thick smell of cigarette smoke mingling with the sweat and polish.

Fingers twined hesitantly with his, jolting Steve back to the present.

"You okay?" Becca asked anxiously. "You look like you might get sick."

"I'm fine," Steve lied, resisting the urge to turn around and walk right back out.

"But, you –"

"It's all right, Becca." Steve made himself focus on her eyes. The dim lighting had turned their bronze to the same deep chocolate as the wooden panels, but they remained bright with worry. "I just needed a second."

Becca wrinkled her nose and her gaze flicked towards the exit. Whether honoring Steve's assertion that he would tell her if he wanted to go or deciding that the tumultuous moment had passed, Becca didn't shove him out the door.

"Let's get you a drink," prompted Becca, squeezing his hand once and withdrawing.

When Becca ducked into the crowd ahead of him, Steve nearly reached out for her hand like a drowning man groping for a lifeline, but he curbed the impulse. There were too many people, and it would make maneuvering between them difficult. He made a fist instead.

The alcohol would have no effect on him. Steve _wished_ he could have something strong enough to dull the razor's edge of emotions threatening to cut into his chest. Still, he ordered a drink, and Becca sent the bartender off with their orders and a ten dollar bill. The room seemed to tug him in different directions, threatening to rip him apart or launch him out the door in an effort to get away. To keep from crumbling, Steve turned to Becca for a distraction.

"So what have you been doing since Thursday?"

"Let's see…" Becca chewed on the corner of her lip. "Mostly work stuff, to be honest. I have that semi-annual presentation coming up that I texted you about, which is, you know, super not fun because not only do I have to stress over proving that I am an awesome and effective employee but I also have to put on my grown-up suit and go into an office."

"I'm sure you'll do fine."

"I hope so. Last time was nearly a disaster because I spent half the presentation attempting not to laugh." Becca rolled her eyes. "One of the supervisors there. She was – Okay, picture a witch."

An image of the Wicked Witch of the West popped into Steve's head. "All right."

"Now picture her making this expression." Becca dropped her mouth open with her tongue resting on her bottom lip and squinted one eye.

"That's pretty bad."

Becca dropped the odd expression. "Oh, it gets worse." She leaned towards him and in a conspiratorial stage whisper said, "She started to snore." Steve's mouth twitched into a smile. "Mhmm. And no one woke her up or said anything. I had to carry on like it wasn't happening with this woman right in front of me."

The bartender set down their drinks and Becca's change. Becca swept the change into her clutch while Steve lifted the glass closest to him.

"Here's to not putting not putting another witch to sleep with your presentation."

"I didn't put her to sleep," contradicted Becca indignantly. "But cheers."

The band had switched from swing to jazz, and the sight of all those people dancing in quick, carefree movements prompted Steve to quickly down his drink before he remembered that it wouldn't help. How many times had he stood on the side of a dance floor like this one watching the dancers following these same steps?

Bucky insisted over and over again that they go out dancing, sometimes on a double date and other times to find women at one of the local clubs, despite the fact that Steve would inevitably end up tucked into a corner somewhere on his own. There Bucky would find him and either try to draw Steve back out or keep him company. After a while, Steve learned to leave before Bucky found him. Otherwise, Bucky would usually leave a girl behind to walk home with him.

Those memories hit Steve hard. Dryness pricked the back of his throat, warning of the impending possibility of tears.

Becca's hand came to rest gently on top of his. Steve took a shuddering breath and looked at her.

"I know I'm nagging, but are you absolutely sure you don't want to leave?" Becca asked, the softness of her tone betraying her deep concern. "I really don't mind. I promise."

Steve almost accepted the offer, but he reminded himself that this wasn't one of the same clubs he had gone to with Bucky. There were too many small things that were different. This place wasn't a slice of the 1940s; it was just a club that had nothing to do with him. Anyway, he finally had a woman who wanted to dance with him. Steve didn't want to chance her disappointment even though Becca was insisting they could leave.

"Thanks, but we can stay."

Becca opened her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. She gazed at him pensively and shrugged.

"Okay," Becca conceded. "Then, do you wanna dance?"

With music this fast, Steve was positive he would step on Becca's toes. He didn't have the greatest sense of rhythm. When he had toured America promoting war bonds, a director had tried to teach him a few steps to the music with one of the dancers. It had been a colossal failure.

"I think I need something slower."

"Slower it is." Becca nodded towards the dance floor. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not an expert at dancing either. And I didn't know how people danced in the Forties, so Ally and I – she says 'hi' by the way – spent a few hours yesterday watching YouTube videos and dancing around the apartment. We definitely stepped all over each other quite a bit in the beginning. Then, she had to be all dramatic and try to dip me. Bam!" Becca clapped her hands. "Dropped me on the floor. I'm sure you won't be _that_ bad."

Steve had a vision of Becca and Ally waltzing around their cluttered apartment, knocking into the couch and each other, and he did feel a bit better. He would never drop Becca, so he did have that working in his favor. If the song was slow and easy, he should do all right.

"I'll do my best."

"Then we'll be fine." Becca tossed her head, sending the curled strands tumbling back over her shoulders. "Although I have to warn you, I might have to show off for at least part the Jitterbug if it comes on because I'm pretty proud of myself for learning it. I know it was technically '39, but I was assured it was very popular in the early Forties."

"Thanks for the warning," said Steve, but he was relieved Becca wasn't expecting him to pick up any elaborate dance moves tonight.

The band stopped playing and picked up again on a slow number. Becca beamed and hopped down from her chair before Steve could think up an excuse to wait for another song.

Becca squeezed her clutch between her hands and then held it out to him with near reluctance.

"If you wouldn't mind putting this in a pocket."

Steve took the clutch, tucking it into his pants while Becca moved off. He gathered up his courage and followed her, wondering what it said about him that he felt more confident about taking on a heavily armed enemy camp than facing a dance.

Becca brought them to a spot on the edge of the dance floor where there was some room to maneuver and held up her arms expectantly. Steve placed a hand on her waist and enfolded her other hand in his. He kept a careful distance between them to diminish the chance of stepping on her.

Becca arched an eyebrow at this. "You know, it's okay to come a little closer. You don't need to keep a space for Jesus or anything." Steve shuffled minutely closer. Becca sighed in gentle exasperation. "Such a grandpa," she murmured.

"I need to see my feet," Steve explained.

Otherwise he would have closed the distance, just not as much as the couple next to them who were lip-locked and swaying as they caressed each other in such a way that Steve felt even more uncomfortable than he already was.

"A slow foxtrot is a safe choice, I think," Becca mused, tapping a heel to the rhythm of the band. "Do you know the foxtrot at all?"

"Sort of." Steve knew the steps, but he had never danced it with a woman.

"Cool. You'll do great."

"All right," mumbled Steve, not sounding convinced. Sure, a few steps was less intimidating than an entire dance number, but Steve wasn't much confident in his ability to do even those four steps without a mishap.

"Hey." Becca ducked her head to catch his gaze and turn it up from their feet. "If you mess up…" She shrugged. "This isn't competitive dancing. It's not supposed to be perfect. It's supposed to be fun. Just me and you, okay?"

Steve drew in a slow breath. Becca wasn't going tease him if he made a mistake, not seriously. She'd admitted to practicing with her roommate with a rough start. As long as he moved carefully, he wouldn't step on her. There wasn't a need to be so nervous. Steve blew out the breath.

"We better get started or the song's gonna be over."

Becca nodded. "First left step." Steve waited to see how far Becca moved her right foot back before stepping forward. "Now right." They stepped again with the opposite foot. "Left again." Steve watched Becca sweep her foot out at a slight angle and placed his foot in front of hers. "And…"

Steve pivoted on the front of his right foot, allowing Becca to lead him in a ninety-degree swing with the weight of her body. When they stopped, he set down his left foot. He'd made it through all four steps without treading on Becca or making a mistake. He glanced up. Becca was beaming at him.

"What'd I tell you? You did good."

The foxtrot might not be fancy or real difficult by most people's standards, but Steve felt a sense of accomplishment nonetheless. In the moment, Steve forgot completely about his surroundings, lost under a flare of pride and Becca's disarming smile.

"Well, I have a good partner."

Becca flushed happily. "I do what I can. You wanna keep going?"

"Absolutely."

Steve kept an eye on their feet as they went over the steps. With each repetition, Steve grew surer of the movements. He nearly stepped on Becca's toes once when he overestimated the swing, but that was the only close call.

The end of the song came up too soon. It was an unexpected blow. The band kicked up a faster song, setting all the dancers swinging to the hopping beat while Steve looked up in dismay. Becca, however, was unperturbed.

"You know the best thing about the foxtrot?" she asked, raising her voice over the music. Steve shook his head. "It can be done as fast or slow as you want." Becca gave his hand a light squeeze. "Let's swing it, partner."

With Becca's innate sense of rhythm they were soon whirling in a neat, square formation. Steve realized that, at some point, Becca had given up the lead to him and he was guiding her instead of the other way around. The call of the trumpet and thump of the drum seemed to be pushing them along. Steve fell into a rhythm he didn't know he had in him.

The gap between Becca and himself had been steadily closing, and with a decisive step Becca pressed right up against him. Steve panicked. He couldn't see his feet. Two warm fingers nudged under his chin. Obediently, Steve lifted his face to Becca's. She set her hand back on his shoulder and flashed an encouraging smile.

Under the loud music, Steve heard her say, "You've got this."

As it turned out, he did. Four quick steps proved it. Maybe their dance wasn't perfect, occasionally they bumped into someone or were knocked into, but Steve deciding that dancing was fun, as Becca had promised.

Becca was definitely having fun. She apologized to anyone they collided with, but giggled helplessly afterwards. If the band played a song which she knew, Becca bounced on her heels in anticipation and exclaimed "I know this one!" to which Steve would reply "Then we better not waste it." After an attempt at the Lindy Hop proved less than successful, Becca merely shrugged and assured him that the foxtrot was a much better dance anyway. With her smile glowing, Steve had no choice but to believe her.

Her smile – he had really grown very fond of it. Steve watched Becca fording through the crowd towards the restroom, the clutch she had retrieved from him the last thing to disappear from his sight. Steve leaned against a wall, running a sleeve across his damp forehead. Maybe "fond" wasn't the right word. He just liked it. A lot. He couldn't reckon the amount of times he'd thought how pretty Becca was when she smiled at him, how she made him feel… better.

A beautiful woman with flowing black hair and a flower-print dress appeared in front of him.

"Hi. Would you like to dance?" she questioned in a lilting soprano.

Steve could have sworn the temperature climbed ten degrees around him. He crossed an arm over his chest, rubbing his elbow.

"Uh. I'm sorry. I, uh…" Steve's eyes flicked over the woman's head towards the spot where Becca had vanished. "I've already got a partner," he informed her with resolve. "I'm just waiting for her to come back."

The woman pouted, but moved off. Steve relaxed, hoping no other women approached him. He folded his arms, hopefully looking disinterested. While Steve waited, his thoughts turned back to how he had dismissed the woman, what he had said. It was the second time tonight he had called Becca his "partner," and while Becca tossed the term out easily, he wondered at his mind picking that word without a second thought when it had once meant so much to him.

Steve was distracted by the band breaking into the Jitterbug. Becca was going to miss it. But within seconds she appeared, weaving towards him with intent. Steve hastened to meet her. They bumped straight into each other, but Becca bounced backwards without pause.

"It's the Jitterbug!" Becca squealed.

"Go on!" Steve encouraged, Becca's excitement rubbing off on him. "This is your dance."

Becca didn't need to be told twice. She shoved her clutch into his hands and leapt into the dance in a swirl of skirts, kicking up her feet and falling into the steps with ease. Steve was impressed. It was difficult to believe she'd picked up this dance with so little practice.

Steve was content to let Becca show off, but Becca grabbed his hands. "Dance with me!"

"I don't know all the steps," Steve objected, attempting to extract his hands.

"Who cares?" Becca laughed. "Dance with me, Steve."

Becca spun them around, lifting their arms up and bringing them back together. Steve shook his head, grinning, and gave in.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**Keep away from THE JITTERBUG! I swear that song is going to be stuck in my head for at least a week now. So. Catchy. **

**Anyway, here is the dancing that I hinted about last chapter. I knew I wanted to do a dancing club scene with Steve since it would an emotional roadblock from his past that needed some working through. **

**Also, a little insight into the drug addiction that Becca's developing, hm? With the fun adventures, I know the addiction seems to be shifted to the background. However, I think it is an unfortunate reality of prescription addiction that the addiction begins subtly until the addict is smack-dab in the middle of a full blown addiction without realizing how they got there (or that they're even there). **

**Thank you to all you wonderful readers and reviewers! Next chapter we're finally getting to something that begins with "Aveng-" and ends in "-ers." I hope y'all are pumped because I am. **


	10. Fight Or Flight

Steve tugged on the sleeve of his uniform, shifting the tight fabric into place. Putting on his uniform, it had felt good. He felt useful again with a mission to carry out, people he could help. But all that had been swept under the enormity of the task before him and the remainder of the team Nick had dubbed "The Avengers."

Loki had the Tesseract and, if Tony was right, Stark Tower as a power source. Whatever Loki's plan, there was sure to be plenty of destruction in his wake. Loki had proven time and again that human lives meant nothing to him. A lot of people could die, and New York City would be ground zero unless he was stopped.

From the pocket of his neatly folded pants, Steve plucked out his wallet and cell phone. While S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept a utility belt on his uniform, most of the pockets were empty of equipment. He placed the wallet into one of those pockets, but hesitated over the phone. Becca was giving her presentation today. Steve didn't know where or when it was taking place, but he was concerned that she could be caught near the tower if things went bad. He opened their messages, the last from Becca the night he'd left New York.

"_K text me when you get back then. And good luck! Don't throw out your back or anything ;)" _

Although Steve would have preferred to call and impress on her how important it was that she stayed out of harm's way, he didn't have a lot of time. Steve would say this for texting, it was a lot faster.

"Keep away from Stark Tower. If you're not at home, get there as soon as you can. I'll let you know when everything is clear." Steve glanced over the text and added, "Stay safe."

The message refused to send. His phone wasn't getting a signal and with the helicarrier's communications knocked out, Steve had no way of reaching Becca.

Steve shoved his phone into another pocket. There would be a signal once he got close to New York. Loki would wait until then to make his move. He needed his audience. Steve took up his shield and left the room to track down Agent Romanoff. Chances were good that Becca wasn't even close to Stark Tower. She would be all right.

* * *

><p>The presentation went well. At least, Becca didn't stumble over anything and no one fell asleep this time. Following the presentation, she had to wade through a series of questions on the advertisements she had presented as everyone wanted to look like a smart and thoughtful employee, although Becca really didn't think it was necessary to be quizzed on font sizes for ten minutes.<p>

Still, Becca felt good as she took her seat. No more presentations to worry about for another six months. She pulled out her phone to check it for no other reason than force of habit. The message light blinked. When Becca saw Steve's name, she smiled. He must have returned, and she couldn't wait to hear what had put Captain America back in action. However, the content of the text made the smile slip from her face.

Why did she have to avoid Stark Tower? Was it going to blow up? Had there been a terrorist threat? If so, wouldn't there be an alert out? Becca itched to text Steve and find out what was going on, but he was obviously in the middle of something important. Having his phone go off and distract him was the last thing he needed.

Furthermore, the specifics could be top secret. Exciting in theory, but the reality was that the cryptic text made Becca both anxious and frustrated. It didn't help that her office was four streets down and one block over from Stark Tower. Becca wasn't sure how far "away" she should be, but this didn't seem far enough. Of all the damn days to have to come in.

Jumping up and leaving was out of the question. If she had the slightest clue what was going on, she would have warned everyone and gotten the hell out. Since she was in the dark, Becca planned to skip out on the rest of the presentations and following meeting by feigning illness.

To her dismay, a coworker hopped out of his seat at the front of the table, and they went straight into another presentation. Becca attempted to listen and take notes, all the while tapping her foot nervously against the carpet and waiting to hear a loud bang or feel the building sway.

Once the coworker had finished, one of the supervisors announced a break. Becca checked her phone, turning the volume back on as she did so. No messages. She promptly dropped the phone and tablet into her work purse and made straight for Alice, the supervisor Becca considered the most easygoing. Alice was sitting on the other end of the table, a graceful woman in her early fifties who always wore a tight bun and thin glasses that gave her the appearance of a stern librarian until one spoke to her.

"Excuse me."

Alice paused in her typing, fingers hovering over laptop keys as she looked up.

"I'm so sorry to do this, but I was wondering if I could be excused. My roommate came down with the flu recently, and I think I might have caught it from her." Becca touched her stomach for effect.

"You do look a little unwell," Alice noted. She gave Becca a sympathetic smile. "Of course you are excused. I will send along an e-mail after the meeting."

Becca sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."

It was difficult for Becca not to sprint out of the conference room. She made herself walk to the elevator. With each stop, her impatience grew. Why did the company she worked for have to be all the way on the twenty-third floor? If she wasn't barricaded in the back of the elevator, Becca would have gotten out and taken the stairs.

Once she was free of the office building, Becca picked up her pace to a near jog, taking a street that would keep her a few blocks away from Stark Tower. It might have been a couple of hours since Steve had texted her, but Becca didn't think for a minute that meant the threat at Stark Tower was over. The chances of Steve not letting her know the coast was clear were pretty slim. He had a startlingly good memory, so forgetting about her was unlikely. If he had gone out of his way to warn her, then he probably would do the same to keep her from fretting over his text. A threat that was taking this long to dispel was cause for serious concern. God, she hoped Steve was all right.

Becca wondered if she should text her friends who worked in this area. She might not be able to explain what was happing, but friends were more trusting than coworkers. A low buzzing accompanied by a ripping sound went unnoticed as it melded with the constant city noises. Before Becca could get to her phone, the person in front of her abruptly stopped, and she crashed into him.

"What the hell!" Becca snapped, nerves transforming her voice into a whip.

The man didn't even turn around. He was staring up at the sky with shock. Around them, others were looking, fingers pointing up. Becca followed their collective gaze, and her mouth gaped.

A pillar of light shot up from the top of Stark Tower, launching straight into the sky. Except the light then disappeared not into blue and clouds, but a massive hole from which streamed a series of objects. Freak weather, was Becca's immediate thought, followed closely by meteorites. Reeling from the shock of what she was seeing, Becca sluggishly remembered that she was supposed to keep away from Stark Tower. Were these bombs? The objects didn't move like bombs or meteorites or anything that resulted from freak weather. They spread out in a pattern that reminded Becca of a swarm of wasps pouring out of a hive, intent on stinging an intruder.

Because she had some kind of warning, Becca recovered before most of the people around her. She ran as fast as her heels would allow, making for the subway. Whatever was happening, when things came from the sky, getting underground was top priority. Maybe she could make it before they shut down the trains. The more distance she put between herself and Stark Tower, the better.

While some people continued to stare up at the sky, others had decided, like Becca, that they needed to get to safety. They dashed into buildings, scattered through the streets, banged on car windows. Some abandoned their cars. Others tore down the street at top speed, rules of the road forgotten. Glass shattered, cars smashed into each other, shouts and screams reverberated in Becca's ears, but none of it prepared her for the bolt of light that crackled past her.

The bolt hit a woman in front of Becca. The woman was propelled forwards and sprawled onto the sidewalk, limp. A man staggered back from the body, while a mother and child trampled right over her without seeming to notice. Becca glanced behind her and froze.

The objects weren't objects. They were people, flying through the air on golden machines and shooting out bolts of light. Every few seconds, one of the people dropped down from the machines and landed on the street to pick off those who fled from them. Struggling to make sense of the scene, Becca's mind supplied her with _Star Wars_.

"No," Becca whispered to herself.

That was impossible. This was an invading army with advanced technology. That was all. Maybe they were from another country or a secret group in the US. They weren't from another planet, and they definitely weren't…

Becca flinched as one of the machines went roaring overhead. She got a glimpse of a tall body covered in metal-plated armor with a face that protruded impossibly like a skeletal lizard. Alien. It looked alien. Fear leeched through her, gluing her feet to the sidewalk. A mask, a deformity, humans under experimentation. What did it matter? She had to _move_.

In the few seconds Becca had stood immobile on the sidewalk, the invading force had swollen in numbers, pouring out of the sky in an endless stream. Becca made herself turn around. As much as she wanted to run, her legs seemed to be working against her. She stumbled over a crack, hopping awkwardly to regain her balance. A teenage boy was hit off to her left. He fell against the window of a building, leaving a streak of red on the glass.

Someone leapt on top of Becca as heat sizzled over her. She put out her hands in time to prevent her face from bashing into the cement. A gunshot went off right over her, and Becca shrieked in alarm. The weight on her lower back lifted, and Becca was dragged to her feet.

The woman was short, a few inches over five feet at most. A few stray wrinkles suggested she was in her late thirties. Her straight, brown hair was drawn back in a plain ponytail, and the clothes she wore were unremarkable business casual. Becca noticed all of this only after seeing the gun in the woman's hand.

"This way," the woman instructed with such authority that Becca started forward immediately.

Occasionally firing at an attacker, the woman dashed out into the street. Between the strange weapons and accidents, there were no longer any cars moving. Becca twisted her head back and forth, ready to dive aside from the deadly bolts of light. She wanted to believe this was all a bad dream, but this was far too vivid. The woman crouched over a manhole and yanked the cover open. She gestured into the darkness with the handgun.

"Go." She peered up, raising the gun.

Since Becca's instincts were screaming at her to get out of danger as quickly as possible, she swung onto the ladder without question and descended into the sewers. As soon as there were enough empty rungs, the woman stepped down onto the ladder as well. When she shut the cover, Becca was able to see only a few rays of light coming through sewer grates.

Her feet touched stone and slid, although in what Becca didn't want to know. She held onto the edge of the ladder, legs shaking uncontrollably. Dizziness took hold of her, and between it and the disgusting smell, Becca forced back the urge to vomit.

The woman landed on the ground and clicked on a small flashlight. Around them was a curved tunnel of mixed brick and stone. They stood on a pathway, but most of the ground was covered in stagnant brown water. In the glow of the flashlight, Becca could see that the woman's expression was calm, but calculating. Becca had no clue who this woman was, but there was no way anyone could be this calm without knowing something.

"What… the fuck… is going on?" Becca asked.

The flashlight's beam swept towards her. "Take slower breaths first. You're going to hyperventilate."

Becca gripped the ladder more tightly, but forced in a huge breath, which she took through her mouth to dim the smell of sewage. She blew the breath out in a slow stream. The air did little good. Becca's heart still slammed repeatedly into her ribs.

"Okay. Tell me."

The beam moved away, and as Becca's eyes adjusted she could see the silhouette of the woman. She held remarkably still apart from her rotating hand.

The woman jerked the flashlight towards the tunnel. "I'll tell you while we move."

"No," Becca retorted. She had fixed her stupid breathing, and now she wanted to know. "I am not going anywhere with you until you _tell me what the fuck is fucking happening_!"

The woman sighed, but, evidently not wanting to be stuck for long, she said, "We're being invaded."

"No shit. By?"

"Aliens."

Becca almost collapsed. The word sounded so much worse out loud than the possibility had in her head. She rubbed a hand over her cheek, willing herself to stay upright.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice unsteady as the ground beneath her felt.

"Agent Greaves." The woman took out a badge. Her flashlight glinted off the silver eagle symbol. "I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D."

Being with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent didn't change the fact that aliens were invading or that they were in danger, but Becca felt a measure of relief nonetheless. These were the people that Steve was helping. He must have sent Agent Greaves to look for her. Becca counted herself lucky. There was a good chance she would be dead had Agent Greaves not appeared.

"We need to move, "Agent Greaves pressed, tucking the badge into a coat pocket.

"But... what about the other people?" Becca looked up to the outline of the manhole cover. "Shouldn't we try to get more people down here?"

Agent Greaves shook her head. "It would take too much time. We'd become a target."

As awful as it sounded, Becca knew Agent Greaves was right. There were too many aliens, and Agent Greaves only had so many bullets.

"Okay," Becca murmured. "Let's go."

Becca gave up her hold on the ladder, grasping her purse strap in a vice grip in its place. Screams and the screech of weapon fire filtered down through the grates with an occasionally more forceful blast that made the ceiling vibrate, raining down bits of stone and brick. The sounds made Becca queasy. She took an extra step, sticking close to Agent Greaves, and they walked down the path in a direction away from Stark Tower.

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you," Becca apologized. Her voice echoed loudly down the tunnel, but not loudly enough to block out the destruction overhead as much as Becca wished it would. "I'm just kinda freaked out."

"Understandable. You're handling this as well as most people will."

Which Becca knew was not very well at all. "You seem pretty fine."

"Mmmm."

Agent Greaves would have no doubt let the subject drop, but Becca thought that if she didn't keep talking, she might really start freaking out.

"So the government knows about aliens then?" Becca continued. "Is Area 51 legit?"

Although anyone who faced what was happening in New York would be horrified, and rightly so, there were conspiracy theorists and people sitting in bunkers with tin foil hats that must be grimly congratulating themselves on their foresight. Becca hadn't discounted the possibility of aliens existing somewhere in the universe. However, an invasion seemed nothing more than a fantasy until now.

"There is no Area 51," Agent Greaves dismissed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has only been recently made aware of other beings. There was an incident in New Mexico."

Becca waited, but when it was clear no more details would be forthcoming, she asked, "Well, what happened?"

Agent Greaves flashed a brief, considering look over her shoulder. "I'm afraid I don't have clearance to tell you that."

"Seriously? There are aliens up there." Becca waved at the ceiling even though Agent Greaves was no longer looking. "I know they exist. Everyone knows they exist. Isn't it all going to come out anyway?"

For a minute, Agent Greaves went silent. Becca was afraid that the agent had clammed up completely. She ran a hand up and down her purse strap, deciding what other subject to broach instead.

"In all likelihood, a lot of it will come out," agreed Agent Greaves at length. "That incident is very much at the heart of this invasion. But I can't say any more than that. It's against protocol to divulge information to a civilian, even if you are… close to Captain Rogers."

Apprehension bubbled up in Becca's stomach at the sound of Steve's name. "Is he at the tower?"

"Most likely." Agent Greaves shone her flashlight into a gap in the wall leading to another stretch of sewer.

If Steve was at the tower, he wouldn't be alone. There was no way Iron Man wouldn't be there, and there must be more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, too. Still, with the sheer number of aliens pouring through the hole above Stark Tower, there was the very real possibility that they would be overwhelmed. Becca took out her phone, biting on her bottom lip. His message popped up on the screen as soon as she unlocked it.

_Stay safe_.

The last message she had sent was a teasing one. What if it was the last thing she ever sent him? Becca's eyes pricked with tears. She should have sent something nicer. She should have demanded to know where his apartment was so she could run over and give him a hug before he left. She should have gotten up early this morning and had breakfast with Ally. She should have called her parents for once. A tear rolled down Becca's cheek, falling onto the screen.

When Agent Greaves touched her shoulder, Becca jumped. The agent's expression was still full of calm determination, but the edge in her eyes had softened for the moment.

"Don't go down that road," she warned, as though reading Becca's mind. "We haven't lost yet."

Becca nodded. There might be a way to stop the invasion. Once word got out, the Secretary of Defense would probably authorize all kinds of military units to join in the fight. Becca rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tears. She couldn't go to pieces. Like her injury, this was a bad situation to be handled one step at a time. Steve told her to stay safe. The best way to do that was to follow Agent Greaves and not panic.

"All right. I'm okay," stated Becca, more to herself than Agent Greaves.

"Good." Agent Greaves dropped her arm. "We're going to cross here."

Agent Greaves slipped through the gap. Becca hurried along after. She knew consciously that it was stupid to be nervous about rats when they had much bigger problems, but that didn't make her feel better about sitting in the dark when the flashlight was pointed away from her. Rats were huge and nasty, and she would kick one clear across the tunnel if it touched her.

The next tunnel was even wider. There was a space to walk along both sides should someone had the inclination, or the stomach, to cross the filthy water. Not that it would do much good, but Becca was glad she had chosen to wear her suit. If she had to cross through anything, a skirt would be a decidedly worse defense against… whatever was in that water.

The back of her neck ached, and Becca recognized that it had been for awhile. She'd been too distracted for once to give it much thought. It had to be time to take her meds. This was exactly why she brought them everywhere. If she had had been caught without them, she would have been screwed. Becca felt around in her purse to locate the bottles. Fortunately, she didn't need to ask for light. She knew from the shape of the tablets which was Oxy and which was Adderall.

"So what's it like working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Becca asked, automatically covering the unmistakable rattle of medication shifting in a bottle.

"Currently, it stinks."

Becca was so surprised by the joke that she giggled. "Yeah, guess you can't go much lower."

"No. Not much lower than this," said Agent Greaves dryly. "This is shit."

Becca smiled, popping the tablets into her mouth. She took out a tiny water bottle and swallowed some water with the tablets. Agent Greaves was all right.

"What's it really like?"

Agent Greaves seemed to consider the question. "Interesting."

"I bet." Becca imagined S.H.I.E.L.D. to be an even more covert version of the FBI. "Do you have, like, a specialty or something? Weapons? Kicking ass?"

Agent Greaves laughed. "I'm a field agent, so I suppose I specialize in both weapons and kicking ass."

"Very cool. I have no experience in either, but I think learning a bit of self-defense when this is all over might be a good call." Should anything ever happen to her, Becca didn't want to freeze up again. "Possibly also learning how to shoot a gun. Possibly also buying a gun."

"That may be wise," Agent Greaves approved. She jerked her flashlight towards the ceiling as grime cascaded down in the wake of a deafening roar. Becca eyed the ceiling herself. What make a sound like _that_? "I'm sure Captain Rogers will be very helpful in those areas."

"Um… yeah."

Of course, it made sense that Becca would go to Steve, but she didn't love the idea of looking like a hopeless case once he figured out that she didn't have the slightest clue how to throw a punch. She was thinking more along the lines of taking a class where there would be people as clueless as she was or, better yet, learning from YouTube in the privacy of her apartment where she wouldn't look weak to anyone.

A wave of faint detonations went off above, which would have meant nothing to Becca and Agent Greaves had it not been followed by an explosion of sound. In the beam of the flashlight that swiveled over her head, Becca could see that the far end of the tunnel behind them was collapsing as something massive, gold, and grey ripped through the street above. Whatever that something was, it was coming closer.

"Run!" Agent Greaves yelled, but this time Becca was already running.

They pelted down the stone path. Agent Greaves was in the lead and pulling farther ahead with every step. Becca would have taken off her heels, but the floor was slick. Besides, that would have meant stopping. Fear fueled her, pushing her legs to their limit. Behind them, bricks rained down. Water and refuse overcame them in a wave that rose up around Becca's ankles. She tripped at the weight of it, but caught herself against the wall. Becca looked back as she ran.

The thing had stopped moving, its momentum halted by the concrete. Light poured in around it from the broken road, but that gave Becca no more idea of what the thing was. What she did recognize were the figures splashing through the water around it. The aliens appeared to be climbing over the thing to get back to the surface.

Becca skidded to a stop. She held very still and breathed as quietly as she could. The tunnel seemed to have settled and was no longer caving in. If she didn't make a sound, the aliens would go away. Agent Greave must have had the same thought because Becca no longer heard her nor saw the beam of the flashlight. She was too scared to let the aliens out of her sight to find out for certain.

Whether the thing was metal or flesh or both, it made for a tough climb. Becca counted seven aliens as they skittered over the thing. They chattered at each other with increasing volume as they failed to scale their way successfully up to join their comrades.

A hand curved over Becca's mouth. Becca twitched and just managed to swallow her scream. Agent Greaves tugged lightly at Becca's arm, and Becca got the message. They had to keep moving. It was only a matter of time before the aliens tried the tunnel. Slowly, Becca turned her back on the aliens and waded through the knee-deep water. She tried not to think about the aliens or what was in the water. She concentrated on an image of her cozy apartment. She was going to survive to get back to that apartment.

"There's a split here," whispered Agent Greaves through the dark. "We're going left."

Becca felt her way around the corner. A scream that needed no translation split through the tunnel. The aliens were moving. Becca and Agent Greaves picked up their pace, hidden under the splashes and shrill sounds the aliens were making.

Abruptly, Becca slammed into Agent Greaves so hard that the breath was knocked from her. She staggered back a step.

"Why'd you stop?" she hissed.

"There's a grate."

"What?" The short tunnel was indeed a dead end. Becca reached out and touched the grate in front of her. "Shit."

Agent Greaves said nothing. They had to go back into the tunnel, which meant they were definitely going to be seen. Those aliens looked big. Becca wasn't going to outrun them, especially not in water. Facing down one of those things was basically suicidal. Becca shivered.

"Listen to me." Although barely speaking at a whisper, Agent Greaves' voice held strong as metal. "Take the flashlight." She shoved the flashlight at Becca, who gripped it like a talisman. "We're going to go back. When we reach the lip of the tunnel, you're going to run as fast as you can. The first turnoff you see, you take it. I'll cover you."

"Okay," Becca squeaked.

After allowing Agent Greaves past, Becca backtracked to the end of the short tunnel. She expected to hear her heart hammering in her ears, but all she could hear was the splashing and chittering coming closer. The alien weapons seemed to emit a soft light even when they weren't being fired because a blue-tinged glow flashed on the walls.

"Ready?"

Becca felt more ready to puke than run. The back of her neck was still throbbing since the Oxy had yet to kick in.

"Ready."

Agent Greaves swung out into the larger tunnel and fired three shots in rapid succession. Becca ran. At the sound of a several bolts, she dodged. One flew right by her elbow. She plunged through the water with weapon fire shoving her forward. A bolt grazed by her hip, so close that the heat made Becca skid to get out of the way. She slipped, falling sideways and soaking the left half of her body. Her purse fell off as Becca scrambled to her feet, but she left it and continued her desperate sprint, expecting any moment to feel a bolt thud into her.

As the glow faded, Becca was losing her ability to see. She clicked on the flashlight, waving it frantically in search of an escape. The light danced across the muck-caked walls like a frenzied firefly. There had to be a turnoff close by. There had to be.

There! The tunnel branched off to the left again. Becca hurtled around the corner and almost cried in relief when she saw that it wasn't another dead end. They had a chance! If Agent Greaves shot all the aliens, they could make it out and get away.

Then, Becca realized that she couldn't hear Agent Greaves. She stopped. There was no sound at all, not even splashing. Had they all killed each other? Or had the aliens gone quiet hoping to lure her out?

Becca hesitated. This was twice that Agent Greaves had saved her life. She could be injured and alone. Maybe she just needed someone to help her walk. Becca took another step in the direction she had been running, but looked back over her shoulder. At least she could take a quick peek. She owed the agent that much. Becca waded back to the edge of the tunnel and peered around the corner.

The aliens must have surrounded Agent Greaves because she was pressed back against the wall. Either she had run out of bullets or lost her gun. The aliens had not. There were two left; both trained massive gold, glowing weapons at her. The weapons had a shape similar to a large water gun, but with a lethally effective shot.

Becca assessed the aliens. She estimated that they were both standing near where the water-covered walkway dropped off. If she distracted them, Agent Greaves had a chance to take them down. Becca sucked in a breath. This had better be worth it or else she'd blow her cover for nothing.

"Hey!" Becca bellowed.

It worked. The aliens both looked towards her. Agent Greaves was not so easily distracted. She leapt on them. All three went into the water with an echoing splash. They resurfaced, struggling with each other in a tangle of limbs. Becca eyes dropped to a golden gun. She didn't even know if she could use it. Her gaze darted between the gun and the fight.

"Shit." Becca ran towards the gun, spraying water everywhere. "Shit. Shit. Shit." This was the stupidest goddamn thing she had done in her entire life.

Agent Greaves got her legs around one of the aliens, but the other pulled her top half down and under. Becca could see that her first assessment of the aliens as skeletal lizards hadn't been wholly off, if those lizards were tall and had grayish-purple skin, yellow eyes, and an affinity for wearing armor. Agent Greaves bobbed back to the surface, gasping. She yanked the helmet off of the alien holding her leg and smashed it into the face of the other.

Becca reached the gun. There were two more bodies floating there, one with another gun and one with a long stick-like weapon ending in a small blade. Becca shoved the flashlight into her pocket and snatched up the gun, holding it in the same way the aliens had, but she couldn't find a trigger. She hurriedly felt around for where she thought a trigger should be, but there was nothing there. She screeched in frustration and pitched the gun at the alien with the helmet, who currently had its hands around Agent Greaves' throat.

The gun smacked into the back of the alien's head. The alien turned, agitated. Agent Greaves pivoted and grabbed the gun, which was miraculously floating on top of the water despite its heavy appearance. She used it to hit the alien with so much force that its neck made a cracking sound. It fell back and floated, lifeless. She turned and stared straight down the muzzle of another gun. The helmetless alien had recovered its weapon.

Becca swore that time slowed, or maybe it was that everyone held still for a split second. Shock melted to acceptance in Agent Greaves' eyes. Becca reached forward, knowing full well there was nothing she could do but her body reacted of its own accord.

The alien shot Agent Greaves point blank. Her face caved, sizzling like fried meat.

Becca had never been able to stomach much violence. Gory movies or pictures of serious wounds made her queasy if she looked too long. But watching Agent Greaves' face fold onto itself with skin blistering and bits of blood and tissue splattering out didn't sicken Becca. It filled her with a flash of blinding rage.

As the alien began to spin towards her, Becca swept up the stick weapon. It was made of metal and filled the width of her hand. Along one edge the metal was cut into a blade over what might have been a gun barrel. She hefted the weight and swung it like a baseball bat. The end smacked into side of the alien's head. The bolt from the alien's gun went wide, but Becca hardly noticed. She shifted her stance and brought the weapon back in the other direction, catching the alien on the back of its unprotected skull. The alien lurched and dropped its gun.

Becca hit it again and again, anger swelling through her and tunneling her vision. Purple gunk oozed up from welts and dents as the alien's skull splintered, but Becca kept on hitting. The alien let out a scream of mindless fury that went on, echoing down the tunnel and reverberating back as though a hoard of inhuman beings sought to tear the bricks apart with their voices alone.

When the alien floated in the water with its head a pulpy mess, Becca found out that she was the one screaming. She dropped the weapon and staggered away with a groan. Her back hit the wall, and Becca collapsed forward on her hands and knees. She vomited into the water. Tears streaked down her face as the pain set in. She looked up, saw the mutilated alien bobbing with the remaining force of her blows, and vomited again. How could she have done that? Becca stared down at her trembling reflection. She gagged, but there was nothing left to come up.

From the chaos above the torn open tunnel, Becca knew that the battle was not yet over. She had to get up. She attempted to stand and failed. Only by using the wall for support was she able to get to her feet. Becca leaned against the brick, gasping as the world lurched. She couldn't stay here; more of the aliens might come down.

Becca couldn't make herself touch the stick again, but she could take a gun. She would throw it again if she had to. Having a weapon was better than not having one. Her hands were slick with blood, torn open from using the stick weapon. It made picking up the gun difficult, but she finally managed. Becca took out the flashlight, holding it under the gun cradled in her arms. She tried to walk forward, but a single step made her pitch dizzily.

During her car accident, Becca had gone into shock, so she was familiar with the sensation. However, unlike with a car accident, no one was on their way to help her. Becca tripped sideways, but she was able to run into the wall. She was going to use it to guide her, and she was going to walk. She was not going to allow herself to sit until she was far away from this place.

Becca ventured further into the sewers clutching an alien gun and a S.H.I.E.L.D. flashlight, walking away from the sounds of movement echoing from the rip in the tunnel.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**Cliffhangerrrrrrrrr!**

**This chapter is the first in an ****_Avengers _mini-arc I have planned. Yes, it's going to be a traumatic experience for Becca and Steve, as you've probably noticed. How will they be on the other side? Only I know. Mwahahaha. **

**While I don't own _Avengers_, Agent Greaves is mine mine mine. **

**Thanks forever and always to the readers and reviewers. **


	11. The Best Girl In New York

Becca meant to get farther. She had headed away from Stark Tower with the notion of heading north from the underground attack. She wasn't sure why she had chosen that direction anymore, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

However, the layout of the sewers made it impossible head in one direction for very long. She was forced to backtrack, ford through water up to her waist, and guess her way through the tunnels. Occasionally she'd end up going in a circle, returning to a familiar stretch of brick or stone. Or maybe they were different tunnels. So much looked the same in the beam of her flashlight that Becca was soon disoriented.

At the sound of footsteps, Becca would move in the opposite direction. There were people with no choice that made a home of the sewers. Others must have thought to seek shelter, but Becca wasn't taking chances. Should she come face to face with another alien, she knew it would be over for her.

A part of her wished it was over. Her legs were shaking, barely able to support her. Her head throbbed. Her arms had given out multiple times, spilling the gun and flashlight onto the floor. At some point, Becca just left the gun. Its glow went out suddenly, and the weapon increased in weight as it did. She wouldn't even be able to throw it anymore. The temperature of the sewers felt like it was dropping at a continuous rate, making her teeth chatter. She was lightheaded, exhausted, but the worst of it was her neck.

The Oxy and Adderall she had taken right before they were attacked should have been enough to hold her over for at least three hours. As the pain increased, Becca realized that she must have vomited up the tablets before her body absorbed them. She considered for the briefest second going back for her purse, but quickly quashed the thought. Her purse could have sunk to the bottom of the sewers, and she might be caught while searching for it. When the pain became a spike in the back of her neck, she had second thoughts, but by then it was too late. She didn't have the faintest clue how to find that place again.

Eventually the dizziness and pain overcame her willpower, and Becca's legs gave out. The floor swam in her vision. She slid against the wall that had been her support and landed hard on her knees. A sharp pain burst across her face, and then…

* * *

><p>Becca woke up on her stomach in an inch of water. The tunnel around her was composed entirely of brick with a ceiling only slightly taller than herself. There were no grates leading to the surface, and so there was no sound. Her flashlight was muffled by a wall, so she reached out and rolled it sideways for more light.<p>

On instinct, Becca tried to push herself up. She wasn't even sure where the pain flared up. Everywhere hurt. With a whimper, she flopped back down. Her face, at least, hadn't landed in the water. Her cheek rested against bricks that felt as cold as blocks of ice. Becca tasted blood. From the stinging sensation across her nose and lip, she guessed that she had busted them when she passed out. Her stomach contracted, sending an agonizing spasm through her body, but there was nothing left to come up.

Becca stared at the bricks with a sob caught in her throat. There were no tears. Her eyes had gone completely dry and itched faintly. She wasn't going to die face down on her own and in a sewer. She wasn't. She refused.

This time Becca managed to push herself up a few inches before she collapsed again. She beat a fist onto the bricks, but the force behind the blows was pathetic. If she rested for a bit, just a bit, she could get up. She would push through the remaining pain and get up. Maybe the invasion was already over. Maybe she would climb to the surface and find out they had won.

Holding onto that possibility, Becca pulled the flashlight closer. While resting, she should turn it off to conserve batteries, but the silence already pressed in around her. Darkness would make it worse. Besides, if a rat nibbled on her, she might quite literally die of shock.

Becca's eyelids drooped as she counted her breaths, in and out.

* * *

><p>Between a ship the size of an army base and an alien army invading Earth, Steve figured that he must have seen just about everything. Physically he wasn't much tired, but he was looking forward to going back to the apartment all the same. First though, he and the rest of the team were waiting for S.H.I.E.L.D. to arrive. Once Loki had been taken into custody, Stark suggested they go out for shwarma. No one had disagreed.<p>

Currently, Stark and Dr. Banner were up on the roof of Stark Tower, examining the Tesseract and the machine Selvig had built. Agents Romanoff and Barton were sitting against the bar, murmuring to each other. Thor leaned against a wall opposite, arms folded. He hovered right above Loki, who, after several failed attempts to get a rise out of anyone, had gone quiet.

Steve stood in front of what had once been a large window. Wind tugged at him through the empty frame, bringing up the scent of smoke and burnt metal. With all the destruction and bodies, the city would take months to recover, but he knew that it could have been worse. They could have lost.

As Steve stared at a busted up skyscraper, he remembered that he was supposed to contact Becca. He pulled off a glove and took out his phone, which had a few nicks but appeared otherwise undamaged. To give himself a measure of privacy, he walked out onto the balcony.

The call went straight to her voicemail.

"_Hi! You've reached the voicemail of Becca Stroud. Please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you when I can. Thanks!" _

"Hi, Becca. This is Steve. I wanted to make sure you were all right and, uh, tell you it's safe. Call me when you can."

This wasn't a promising development. He had never reached her voicemail. Becca seemed to always have her phone on hand. Whether a call or text, he rarely had to wait more than half a minute for a reply. Concern pricked at his stomach.

Steve sent her a text similar to the voicemail he'd left. A red triangle popped up next to the text with the word "undelivered." Steve waited, but with each second that passed, the concern grew from pinpoints to an ache reaching up from his stomach towards his lungs.

Becca was probably fine, but if she was out there trapped in a building or worse, Steve had to know. The heavy sensation in his gut told him that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything until he did. Her apartment was a long distance to try and make in the chaos a disaster like this set off, especially if she wasn't even there. He needed a faster way to locate her.

Nick picked up right away, sounding slightly harried.

"_Captain, like I told Agent Romanoff, I sent in as many agents as I can, but it'll take them a little time to get there. Unfortunately, aliens dropping from the sky tend to tie people up."_

"It's not – Listen, Nick, I know you're busy, but I need a favor."

"_What kind of favor?" _

"Becca's not answering her phone. I was hoping you could find her."

In the silence that followed, Steve began to think Nick was going to turn him down. Tracking down one woman in the wake of much larger events wouldn't seem that important. Fortunately, Nick must have decided that it was important enough.

"_I'll put someone on it and call you back when we've got something."_

"Thank you."

Nick hung up. Now Steve just had to kill time. He paced around the balcony for a bit, then went back inside and sat on the low steps in the middle of the decimated lounge. If Becca was home, finding her should be easy, shouldn't it? He wasn't sure how S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technology worked. Steve turned the phone between his hands.

Romanoff and Barton had lowered their voices even further, but Steve heard enough to know they were talking about him.

"Who's Becca?" questioned Barton finally.

Steve scrolled through his texts. When he returned the bottom his last text to Becca was still marked with the red triangle. He pressed the triangle, striving to fix whatever was causing the text not to send. "Resending" briefly flashed, but blinked out to "undelivered."

"She's… a friend."

Steve set the phone down at his knee, deciding that not touching it might be the best solution. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barton nudge Romanoff with his elbow.

"Is she nice?" asked Romanoff after a second.

"Yeah."

"Pretty?"

Conscious that everyone in the room was watching him, Steve nodded while making a point of studying a black smear on the sleeve of his suit. The agents glanced at each other. Barton shrugged a shoulder.

"You think maybe you'll ask her out?" Romanoff pressed.

"I…" Steve was saved from answering the question when his phone went off. "I have to take this." He stood and walked towards the balcony. "You found her?"

"_Not exactly. Last time a camera picked her up was on 39__th__ and 3__rd__ right after the army came through. We have reason to believe she with an agent of ours, Agent Greaves. They went down into the sewers for cover." _

Steve speculated that a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent turning up with Becca was less coincidental than Nick tried to make it sound, but that was a conversation for another time. Steve located the streets he'd been given. It was impossible to tell from where he stood, but all the buildings in the area were relatively intact. With underground cover and an agent, Becca would have been in minimal danger.

"_We couldn't get a trace on Miss Stroud's phone, but the agent she was with is stationary." _

"Where?"

"_Madison between 33__rd__ and 34__th__." _

Steve counted the streets over to Madison. The spot was two blocks down from where Tony had taken out one of the Chitauri's whale-like ships. Steve could get there quickly enough.

"Thanks."

"_Don't thank me yet. There's something else you should know."_

Steve's relief ebbed. "All right."

"_Greaves' phone is still working as far as we can tell. We tend to issue phones that are more durable than the standard model."_

"Sir, I'd appreciate it if you got right to the point," Steve interrupted.

Nick paused. _"Agent Greaves isn't responding. We traced back her signal, and it seems she hasn't moved for almost forty-eight minutes. Now, it's possible that she's unconscious and it's possible she got separated from Miss Stroud, but… I want you to go into this prepared, Cap." _

The thought of perpetually vivacious Becca lying lifeless in a sewer sent claws burrowing into his chest. Steve gritted his teeth.

"I understand."

"_I can send –"_

"No. Thank you, but no."

Nick sighed. _"I thought as much."_

"I have to go, sir."

Steve put the phone back in his belt and yanked on his glove. Wherever Becca was, he would find her and fast. She might be lost or waiting for help or… He didn't want to believe Becca was dead, but he had to brace himself.

"I'm going to look for Becca," Steve announced as he strode through the lounge, picking up his shield from where it had been sitting on top of the bar.

"Do you want help?" Barton offered.

There was an elevator; Tony and Banner had used it. However, the elevator was missing a call button. Steve touched the metal door.

"No thanks."

Steve wanted to attempt to locate Becca on his own first with the lead Nick had given him. He felt responsible for her. Furthermore, if he found Becca and she was no longer alive, Steve wasn't sure how well he was going to hold himself together.

"Take assistance if you have need of it," counseled Thor. "I will have no trouble from Loki."

"Oh yes," Loki drawled. "I shall be perfectly well behaved while you search for your woman."

Everyone ignored him.

"That's all right," said Steve, recalling with frustration that Stark had gotten the elevator to work with some kind of system named JARVIS. "I've got an idea of where to look."

"Close?" asked Romanoff.

"Yeah."

The elevator doors miraculously opened before Steve could call Stark. He nodded to the team and stepped inside.

"Good luck," said Barton and Romanoff in near unison.

"I do hope she's not dead, Captain," Loki purred as the elevator doors slid shut.

With the elevator blocking all sound from reaching back into the room, Steve growled, "She better not be."

Otherwise, he was coming back to wipe the smug look off Loki's face.

"Which floor, Captain?" inquired JARVIS.

"Ground."

Stark Tower was in the process of being evacuated along with the rest of the surrounding area, but this elevator must have been for Tony's personal use as it made no stops until Steve reached the ground floor. He jogged through the lobby, speeding up to a full run once he was on the street.

There were no manhole covers between 33rd, 34th, and Madison, but there Steve discovered a sewer grate at the corner of 34th and Madison. He set a foot against the curb for balance and wrenched the grate up with two forceful yanks. Brown water glinted below where the sunlight touched, but darkness ate around the edges. He needed a source of light.

Steve scouted out the closest police car where one of the officers let him borrow a flashlight. From there, he went back to the sewer entrance and lowered himself into the hole, holding onto the edge with one hand while clutching the flashlight and his shield in the other. Unsure of the depth of the water, he took a deep breath and dropped.

The water came up above Steve's waist. Steve took a step and felt a hard surface brush against his right leg. Another step and Steve realized that what he was feeling must have been a walkway. With all the debris that had fallen, the sewers had flooded. He got up onto the walkway, and the water level lowered to right below his knees.

"Becca?" Steve called, switching the flashlight into his free hand and sweeping it across the tunnel. "Agent Greaves?"

No one answered him nor did he hear any signs of movement, but the beam of his flashlight illuminated the shape of bodies partially submerged in the water further down the tunnel. Rats skittered off of the figures and disappeared into the water. The glinting armor identified the figures as alien, but one person among them was clearly not.

Steve's lungs contracted, squeezing all the breath out of him. He lurched forward, sprinting towards the bodies. The person's hair was dark. Dark blonde? Impossible to tell soaked in dirty water. The curve of a hip rose above the surface, definitely female, but her face was obscured under the water. Steve prayed for this person not to be Becca. He had been so close this whole time, never more than a few streets away. It would like Bucky again, Bucky who had been just out of reach when he had fallen. He had lost his best friend that day. To think it might have happened again filled Steve with a tearing panic.

There were four bodies in total, and as Steve neared them, he leapt off the walkway into the deeper water. He shoved aside a Chiaturi warrior and halted in front of the woman's body. With apprehension threading every muscle, Steve shifted the flashlight to the same hand as his shield. He turned the woman over.

At the sight of her mutilated face, Steve pressed a fist to his mouth and looked away. Grief threatened to wash up over him, but Steve forced himself to look back into her face. She must have been hit with one of the guns. The skin had melted and charred, shining like wet rubber. One eye had burst under the heat, while the other was situated unnaturally high in the sunken crater of her face. It stared up at the ceiling, the pale blue cloudy in death.

This woman had blue eyes. Becca's eyes weren't blue. They were brown. Steve reached into the water and brought the entirely of the woman's body to the surface. She was too short. This woman wasn't Becca. It had to be Agent Greaves. The despair Steve felt receded as he gently lowered Agent Greaves back into the water.

Steve hauled himself up onto the walkway and panned the flashlight over the surrounding area. He examined the short tunnel two of the bodies rested in. There was no sign of Becca. Steve sagged against the wall, relief coursing through him. Either Becca and Agent Greaves had gotten separated or the agent had held off the Chitauri while Becca got away. So he still had to find her.

"Becca?"

After a beat of silence, Steve moved down the tunnel to where the ship had broken through. He passed three more of the Chitauri on his way, floating in the muck. He prodded the slippery skin of the alien beast ship and contemplated the bits of its metal armor high over head. There wasn't a chance Becca could have made it to the surface here. Was she caught in the collapse of the tunnel?

Steve chewed over the possibility as he returned to Agent Greaves. He scrutinized the bodies, piecing together what might have happened. Assuming that the women had been together, they were attacked by Chitauri coming from the ship. At least two of the aliens in the tunnel had bullet wounds. Agent Greaves would have covered Becca and told her to run. Steve turned, facing away from the ship in the direction Becca would have fled. He followed the tunnel to the first turn off. If he had wanted to get out of the line of fire, he'd have taken this turn off, but would Becca? The light from the crater near the ship didn't stretch far. She would be running blind.

In edge of his flashlight beam, Steve noticed that there was a spot at level with his elbow where the grime had been scraped off as if a hand or shoulder had recently cleared it away. He was reminded of how Becca had kept a hand along one wall at all times when they navigated the underground maze. Steve moved the beam down the wall he had just passed and saw similar marks. In the dark of the sewer system, Becca had stuck to the same trick, leaving him a trail. Steve smiled faintly. For the moment, he was in luck.

With his flashlight trained on the wall, Steve tracked the marks through the tunnels. Every so often, he stopped and called Becca's name, listening for a response before continuing. After a long stretch of untouched wall, Steve found an alien gun abandoned on the stone. Becca could have taken it when she ran, but a more concerning possibility was that a Chitauri had pursued her. Steve moved more quickly after that.

"Becca?"

There was no response. Steve was about to take off when he heard a sound echoing at him from far away.

"Becca?"

Steve strained to listen as the reverberation of his voice faded. He heard the echo again. It was indistinct, but it sounded like a whisper and it was coming from up ahead. Steve pelted down the curving tunnel and waded into a foot of water. He called her name again. This time the sound was unmistakable.

"Hello?" The voice was raspy, but it was undoubtedly Becca's.

Steve raced towards her. The tunnel shrank, the floor curving up under his feet. A brick wall brought the tunnel to an abrupt end. Steve peered down the branching tunnels on his left and right. They were less dirty, and he saw no telltale signs that Becca had come this way.

"Becca!"

Her voice floated out of the left-hand tunnel, its tone uncertain. "Steve?"

"Yeah." Steve splashed through the tunnel. "Keep talking so I can find you."

"O-okay. I'm this way. This way! Oh god, I hope it's really you."

The tunnels in this area were almost entirely brick where the others had been stone. The water level lowered to no more than an inch or so. Steve had to duck his head so as not to accidently smack into the ceiling.

"I thought I might be hearing things. Maybe I am... It's so quiet down here. I'm this way!"

Ahead of him, a weak glow emitted from a tunnel entrance.

"I think you're close. I'm over here!"

Steve rounded the corner. Quite a few yards down the tunnel stood Becca, holding a flashlight of her own. She looked like she had been swimming in sewer water. Her frizzy hair stuck to her neck in long clumps. The water had stained her face with light browns and blacks, but beneath the grime her cheeks were flushed. Dried blood was smeared under her nose and along cut along her upper lip. Her eyes glinted in the light, fever bright and unfocused. She was on her feet, but it was obvious she was using the wall to hold herself up. The flashlight she held shook in her hand.

Becca took an unsteady breath and croaked, "You look terrible. What have you been doing? Climbing through sewers?"

"I couldn't let you have all the fun."

As unwell as Becca looked, Steve was thankful that she was upright and lucid. Still, it was obvious he needed to get her out immediately and to a doctor. He walked towards Becca, lowering his flashlight so she wouldn't be blinded.

Becca straightened a little and winced. "In all seriousness…" She smiled wearily. "I am so glad to see you."

Steve returned the smile, indescribably glad to see Becca as well. He would have told her so, if a spasm hadn't suddenly shot through her. Becca moaned in pain and hunched forwards, dry heaving. Steve dove as she fell, dropping his shield and catching her around the waist. Carefully, he lowered them both to their knees. Becca's forehead burned where it pressed against his neck, and she trembled uncontrollably.

"Are you injured?" Steve asked, wanting to know what he was dealing with before moving her.

"Give me a minute," Becca whimpered. "I'll be okay."

"I –"

"Please, Steve. Just one minute."

Steve fell silent, determined to give Becca no more than one minute. If she needed the wall for support, then Becca was most certainly not okay. An injury was one possibility. He supposed she could also have fallen and accidently swallowed some of the water. That could make a person real sick. Steve lifted a hand from her waist and gingerly touched the back of her head, holding Becca against him.

"We're gonna get out of here," Steve murmured. "But you have to tell me what's wrong so that I don't make it worse, all right?" Becca was silent apart from her labored breathing. "Becca?" Steve leaned back to make sure she hadn't fainted on him. His hand slid down farther to cradle her head.

The second the edge of his hand pressed into her neck, Becca howled. Steve started and jerked his hand away. Becca choked off the howl, but Steve's ears were ringing.

"I'm s-sorry," Becca gasped. "I'm sorry. Fuck."

"What happened to your neck?"

"N-not my neck. It's my f-fucking spine."

Steve felt like the floor dropped out from under him. Nearly two decades of knowing that a spinal injury meant certain death made fear bubble up inside him. An acrid taste filled the back of his mouth, and he resisted the urge to pull Becca closer. He shouldn't let her move at all.

Through his panic, Steve recalled that there had been a few reports of recoveries with new treatments in the years before he had joined the army. The world had come so far since then in a lot of ways. They had to have come up with something for spinal injuries, hadn't they?

"What happened?"

"I was in this car accident two months ago." Steve's eyebrows drew together in confusion. So the injury was an old one? Becca convulsed and hiccupped through another dry heave. "There are nerves in my s-spine that are damaged near my neck. I have medication for the pain, but I l-lost it."

That was exactly what Steve wanted to hear. "Where?"

"I don't know. Back – back when we got attacked. They were in my purse."

Steve hadn't seen a purse anywhere along the tunnel with the Chitauri. It would be underwater wherever it had fallen.

"Do you have more at home?"

Through clenched teeth Becca answered, "No. God, I'm such an idiot."

"It's fine. We'll get you more." Steve tried to remember if he'd seen any drug stores in the area. "So I can carry you?"

"I can walk," Becca protested defensively. She leaned back to look at him while keeping her neck very straight. "I just need some support. I'm not disabled."

"I know how you're not," Steve sighed, "but it will be a lot faster if I can carry you."

Becca tightened her jaw, lowered her gaze, and whispered, "Okay."

Picking a person up while jostling them as little as possible turned out to be a tall order. Steve made the transition as smooth as he could. Asking Becca to hold onto his shield seemed to distract her enough to take some of the focus away from her neck while he lifted her. Steve was sure to avoid touching anywhere close to her neck as he carried her through the tunnels.

Becca was making an effort to be quiet throughout the affair, but she clutched the flashlight and shield with so much force that veins stood out on her hands. A short while later Steve noticed blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth from biting her bottom lip so hard. He really wished Becca didn't feel like he would treat her differently if she showed any more signs of pain.

"Having some kind of health problem, it's not a weakness you know."

"I know," snapped Becca.

"Do you? Because you're acting like it is."

"No, I'm not."

"I think you are."

Becca went silent for a minute. Steve looked down in time to see her reach out and trace the edge of the star on the center of his shield.

"After the accident, a lot of people treated me differently. It was like they thought… like they thought I couldn't do anything for myself, like I was 'Becca the Ticking Time Bomb' or something." Becca grimaced. "I hated it."

Steve had been treated that way for most of his life. It got to him sometimes, having everyone tip-toeing around him like he might keel over at any second. He ended up covering as much of his medical problems as he could just to avoid the pitying looks, much for the same reason Steve suspected that Becca had kept this from him.

"I know the feeling."

"Hmm? Oh. Oh yeah." Becca clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I guess you would. Too bad there's not serum for me, huh?"

"You wouldn't want it."

"Why not?"

"Because then I couldn't impress you anymore."

Becca giggled, but broke off in a wheeze when that made her bump against him.

"Sorry," Steve apologized.

"It's f-fine." Becca made a pained sound, but hastily continued, "But you impress me plenty, even when you're not bending metal poles in half."

"Really?" Steve doubted she'd seen him do anything impressive that didn't have a link to the serum.

"No, I'm lying to you." Steve didn't have to look to know Becca was rolling her eyes. "Of course, really. Some – hang on." She coughed. "Ow. Somehow being the total package hasn't turned you into an arrogant dickwad, which in itself is extremely impressive. You're funny. You're also really nice and considerate. Um, something tells me that even if you weren't built of pure muscle and athleticism, you would have come down to look for me anyway, so there's that. And, you know what, since I've already made this awkward, I'm just going to go ahead and say that I think your eyelashes are flawless. And your eyes. And don't tell me those were enhanced because I saw the pictures and they weren't."

Steve was certain his face currently matched the red stripes on his suit. He hadn't expected Becca to go and reel off all those nice things. He was so unused to hearing praise like this that his tongue felt stuck uselessly to the bottom of his mouth. Yeah, people had given him all sorts of compliments when he was on tour, but this sounded more honest and not like she was expecting something out of him in return. Nevertheless, Steve felt that he should say something equally nice back. There was plenty good he could say about Becca, but when Steve thought of saying those things aloud, he felt even more flustered.

"I overdid it, didn't I?" Becca sighed. "Sorry, I'm a bit… fuzzy at the moment."

He had to say something. "Would you want to get coffee sometime?"

"That… What?"

Steve had put the offer out there, so retracting it was out of the question. More to the point, he realized that he didn't want to. He liked Becca, a lot if he was being honest with himself. Somehow, without his much noticing, she had become more than a friend. Of course, that didn't mean Becca felt the same anymore.

"Or, it doesn't have to be coffee. I don't know if you like coffee."

"I… I mean, I like coffee, but…. Are you asking me out?" Becca questioned incredulously. "Like, on a date?"

"Yeah."

"While we're in a sewer?"

"Yeah."

"While I'm covered in sewer water, blood, and god knows what else?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, his meager confidence draining.

"On the single weirdest day of my life because there was an _alien invasion_? I do assume you being here means they're gone, by the way."

"They're gone. Listen, if you don't want to go, that's –"

"I would love to go."

Steve glanced at Becca. She beamed up at him with his favorite smile, only the tightness of her jaw betraying that she was in any pain. Steve grinned back. He'd finally gotten a date on his own. It only took ninety-four years.

"After I take a shower though," Becca added. "And get my meds. And sleep."

"I guess I can wait."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

The smaller tunnels were connected without any access ladders to the streets above. Steve retraced Becca's path until they came to a tunnel that was equipped with one. He didn't trust Becca to make the short climb, so he handed her his flashlight and gently shifted her up over one shoulder.

"I feel like a sack of potatoes," Becca huffed, but offered no further protest.

As soon as Steve opened the manhole cover, however, Becca groaned. He froze, sure that he had accidently jostled her the wrong way.

"Ugh, it's… it's bright out."

"Yes it is," Steve agreed, blinking into the light. "I'm going to help you through first, all right? We're not both going to fit."

"Okay. Let's do it."

Gripping the ladder with one hand, Steve guided Becca off of his shoulder. He took the flashlights and his shield from her and tossed them easily onto the street above. Through the grime, Steve saw that Becca's palms were torn up. She turned around and clung onto the metal bars regardless, her hands slipping, slick with sweat. Steve readied himself to catch her, but Becca made it up the three necessary rungs before sitting on the edge and pulling her legs up and through. He climbed up after her.

The ladder brought them out into an alley way. No cars or people passed the mouth of the alley, so they were in a section of the city that had been evacuated. Becca stared toward the sidewalk, her pupils wide despite the sunlight.

"Everything's so quiet. It's freaky."

"Give it twenty-four hours." Steve set the manhole cover back in place. "Once things start getting cleaned up, it'll be busy again."

"What's the damage?"

Steve shrugged. "Some buildings, streets. People got hurt, but the Chitauri didn't make it out of this part of Manhattan."

"The Chi-what?"

"Chitauri. The aliens."

"Oh… At least it was contained I guess." Becca gathered up the flashlights, switching them off. "What happened exactly?"

"Let me get you up and I'll tell you."

Becca dumped the flashlights into the back of his shield, and Steve was allowed to pick her up without protest. He carried her out onto the street and saw the top of Stark Tower off to his left. The signs at the street corner designated 54th and 2nd. Becca had led them northeast by over a mile at a straight shot. Underground the distance had been much longer.

Steve took them in the direction of the tower. Dr. Banner's file had mentioned that he had some medical knowledge even though it wasn't his primary field. Steve would feel better if Dr. Banner examined Becca to make sure that that she would be all right until she could get to a medical doctor. In the meantime, he kept an eye out for a drug store while filling her in on the invasion.

When Steve spotted the drug store a block out of their way, he diverted over to it. He set Becca down next to the door where she leaned against large window, teeth chattering. The store was dark; all power to the area had been knocked out.

"You'd know what you need if you saw it, right?" Steve checked.

"Yes."

Steve pried both sets of doors open. He expected a comment from Becca about breaking into a store, but she didn't say anything. She held out his shield after removing her flashlight and clicking it on. Before he could pick her up, Becca took an unsteady two steps. He caught her around the waist and, because the distance was so short, let her march determinedly to the back of the pharmacy counter.

"What are we looking for?"

"Oxycodone." Becca grabbed one of the shelves, shining light onto the labels. "I'll start on this end. You take the other one."

Steve went to the furthest row of shelves, scanning the labels. Most of the medications had long, scientific names that gave no clue as to their purpose. His light hovered a moment over a box of penicillin shots, the kind that could have saved Ma had they not come a couple years too late, but quickly moved on.

The Oxycodone was stocked in the third row Steve checked. Several white boxes lined one of the shelves, all marked with the medication's name. Steve had no idea which Becca needed, so he went to get her. Becca was standing in the same row where he'd left her, peering at a box in her hand and frowning.

"That it?"

Becca glanced up, dropping the hand with the box. "Oh, uh, yeah. Well, it's not Oxycodone. I sorta need two kinds of medication. It's… it's a long, medical explanation."

Since Becca seemed uncomfortable, Steve didn't ask. All he needed to know was that the medication would help.

"I found the Oxycodone."

"Where?"

Steve led Becca to the correct shelf. She tucked the box she had found under her arm and picked up an Oxycodone box. She opened it and took out a package of round green pills. Her nose wrinkled. She closed up the box and put it back. Steve started to worry that they wouldn't have the right one when Becca scanned the entire section without touching another box.

Finally, Becca selected a box which made her sigh with relief when opened. "Okay. I'm all set."

"Good." Steve wrapped an arm around her waist. "I saw a chair in front of the counter. Come on."

"I'm used to getting these after they've been put in bottles," Becca explained as Steve helped her over to the chair.

"But you're sure they're the right ones?"

"Yes." Becca sank into the chair. She set her flashlight on the table beside her. "I need some water to swallow them though if you wouldn't mind getting a bottle."

Steve propped up his shield against her chair. "Sure."

A refrigeration unit had been set in part of the wall towards the front of the drugstore. Condensation spotted the glass from the rising temperature inside. Steve took out a bottle of tepid water and brought it to Becca.

Leaving Becca to take the medication, Steve wandered down an aisle with medical supplies. The wounds on Becca's hands had been exposed for too long. He wasn't sure if cleaning them now would do much good, but it was worth a try. He grabbed rubbing alcohol and a packet of gauze bandages.

Becca was taking small sips of water out of the bottle when Steve returned. Already her teeth had stopped chattering.

"What's that for?" Becca questioned.

"Your hands." Steve knelt in front of her. He took off his gloves and put them aside with his flashlight before tearing off a strip of gauze.

Becca turned over an empty hand, throwing shadows over the wounded palm. "I guess they're not looking so great. If they were going to get infected though, it's probably already happened."

"Well, let's cover them anyway." Steve poured a bit of alcohol on the strip and held Becca's wrist in place.

"Okay. At least they've closed up most of the way 'cause –" Steve pressed the strip against the torn skin, and Becca winced. "Holy sh-mmm."

"You were saying?"

"Never mind."

Steve rubbed at the filth on Becca's hands. The skin underneath was pink and red. Thin scratches ran across her fingers and most of her palm, probably from catching herself while falling. There was also a thick tear across her palm surrounded by blisters.

"This is deep," Steve noted, moving Becca's hand further into the beam of her flashlight. "Did you cut yourself on something?"

"No. I mean, I'm pretty sure no. I fell a few times. This uh…"

When she didn't finish the sentence, Steve glanced up. Shame colored Becca's face. She chewed her bottom lip and, he felt her fingers twitch, curving as if to cover the tear. Steve went back to cleaning her hand and waited.

Steve had a long strip of gauze partially wrapped around her palm when Becca spoke up.

"I flipped out on an alien."

Steve kept wrapping up her palm. "What happened?"

"Um, well, I was with Agent Greaves and we were caught in a tunnel. A bunch of those Chi…Chi…"

"Chitauri," Steve supplied gently.

"Chitauri were coming, so she told me to run. And I did, but then I thought she might need help so I went to look. I mean, her gun must have run out of bullets or something because two of the Chitauri had her cornered."

Steve tied a knot to keep the gauze in place. "I'm listening, but I need your other hand."

Becca set down the water bottle and held the hand out. It too was torn across the palm.

"I yelled to create a distraction, and they all ended up in the water, even Agent Greaves. They were fighting, and I saw the guns floating there. I thought I could use one so I went back, but I couldn't figure out how the stupid thing worked so I just threw it." Becca laughed, a laugh that Steve could hear was on the verge of tears. "I really thought it worked. The Chitauri was so distracted that Agent Greaves got its neck. But then she turned around and… and…"

Steve hadn't given Becca enough credit when he was in the sewers. He had assumed that the Chitauri with the broken neck had managed to get off a last shot as Agent Greaves broke its spine. He didn't consider that Becca would have run back to help. Very few people would have. Still, as much as strength as Becca had for going back, Steve knew that seeing a person get killed before your eyes hit hardest the first time. He didn't imagine having to deal with the reality of an alien invasion made the situation any easier.

Becca sniffed, pressing the bandaged hand over her mouth. Unwilling to ignore the tears welling up in her eyes, Steve set down the alcohol-soaked gauze and cupped the side of her face.

"You did everything right. Sometimes people can't be saved, and it's not your fault."

Becca curled her fingers away from her lips. "But I didn't do everything right because… There was one of the Chitauri left so I picked up this stick thing they had and I… I hit it. Over and over." Tears spilled, falling down her cheeks and wetting the inside of Steve's thumb. "I was so angry. I didn't even care when it died. I didn't even _notice_. I just kept hitting."

Returning from battle, Steve had seen soldiers trembling, shocked at what they had done. He'd seen men stagger into barracks to hide their tears and guilt. He'd seen them break, unable to handle the cost of war. Because there was a cost, not just in lives lost and demolished buildings, but to those who fought and came out alive. Becca had discovered this the hard way, but Steve wouldn't let it eat at her.

"What happened down there, you don't have to feel guilty. That Chitauri, it would have killed you." Steve brushed his thumb over Becca's cheek, wiping away the track of tears. "When you see someone good go down, it hurts and it makes you angry. This time you lost control, but that doesn't make you a bad person. Becca, you are one of the nicest people I have ever met. And that's in ninety-four years."

Becca gave him a tiny smile. "I don't think a lot of those years count."

"If you get to tease me about being old, then they're going to count."

Becca arched an eyebrow, but her smile grew. Steve tore off a piece of gauze and offered it to her in place of a handkerchief. At least he had her smiling. While Becca blew her nose and mopped up her tears, Steve cleaned the rest of her palm and wrapped it.

"Thank you," said Becca as he tied off the gauzed. "Not just for this." She turned her hand, catching his in a light grip. "For everything."

"You're welcome."

The way Becca looked at him heated the back of his Steve's neck, a heat that only increased when her gaze flicked down to his lips. Steve swallowed, eyes widening. She was going to kiss him. Steve knew it with the same, abrupt clarity which told him that he would return the kiss. As Becca leaned forward, Steve's breath hitched expectantly.

But when Becca tilted her head, she winced and flinched back. She sucked in a sharp, pained breath.

"You all right?" Steve asked and immediately realized how dumb the question was.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. The meds take a bit to kick in fully." Becca rubbed her upper arm with embarrassment.

"Right."

Steve felt a bit embarrassed himself. Yet, although silence fell awkwardly between them, Steve couldn't help but notice that Becca still held his hand. He traced a gentle finger across her knuckles causing Becca to smile faintly, which drew his attention to the cut on her upper lip.

"We should clean that cut on your lip."

"Oh." Becca touched it. "Yeah, probably. And then maybe my face, but let's use water for that."

Steve scrubbed off the dried blood from Becca's lip. He tore a long strip of gauze, which Becca soaked in water and used to wash her face. The water revealed a bruise darkening the skin from above her left eyebrow almost to her hairline, but it was too late for ice even if the store had any. Becca rubbed gingerly at her nose, but stated that it didn't feel broken. Her cheeks were pink when she finished, but no longer in an unhealthy flush.

"You know, your face is pretty dirty, too," Becca remarked as Steve rubbed at a missed spot near her chin. "But somehow dirt works on you. It's really not fair."

"Sorry."

"Is that your secret superpower? Looking good at all times?"

"You caught me." Steve gathered up the used gauze and went behind the counter in search of a trashcan. "It makes getting ready in the morning so much faster. It used to take forever to put my face on."

"Is that why you were so cute?" Becca giggled. "And here I thought it was all natural."

"No, it was all in the mascara." Steve pitched the gauze in a trashcan tucked under the counter. "I couldn't go anywhere without it."

Becca's broke into laughter. "It's… it's really a lifesaver, isn't it?"

"It sure is. And don't even get me started on rouge."

That comment sent Becca into another fit of laughter, hugging her sides to keep from shaking too hard. Steve leaned on the counter and grinned. Becca really seemed much better. He wrote a note on a pad of paper behind the cash register with a brief explanation and a promise to return with payment.

While Becca sipped her water in a failing attempt to stifle the laughter, Steve took the remainder of the gauze and rubbing alcohol and placed them next to the note. Hopefully, someone else could use them. Becca had tucked the boxes of medication away in her suit jacket. Steve thought that was for the best as he wasn't sure when she would be able to get more.

All the doctors in the city were going to be overly busy for some time. Even though Becca looked better, Steve still wanted her to see a doctor as soon as possible to be sure she was truly all right. S.H.I.E.L.D. might have an agent with medical training in the area. There had been one he'd seen in his first week after waking up.

"If you're feeling up to it, we should go," Steve said once Becca had stopped laughing.

Becca nodded and drained the water bottle. "Okay."

Steve brought the bottle over to the trash. When he looked up, Becca was standing with her flashlight steady in her hand.

"You look better," Steve observed, tugging his gloves on and gathering up his flashlight and shield.

"I feel better. Not one hundred percent, but better."

Becca wrapped an arm around his, but as she usually did when they walked. Steve didn't have to support her. They left the drug store, pausing outside so that Steve could close the doors.

"So do you have your motorcycle around here somewhere?" Becca studied the surrounding area like his bike might suddenly appear. "I'd like to get to my apartment, but traffic must be murder uptown unless they've banned everyone from driving."

Steve pushed on the outside set of doors to check that they were shut properly. "We're going to Stark Tower. There should be people there who can help. Don't worry. We'll get you back." Steve turned to find Becca gaping at him, aghast.

"Stark Tower? So like... Tony Stark will be there?"

"Well, it is his tower." Steve wasn't sure what the problem was until Becca looked down at her clothes. "You're fine. Besides, unless everyone's got a hold of new clothes and a shower, they're just as covered in dirt and everything else."

"Everyone? _Everyone?_ So the whole superhero team is going to be there and I smell like a sewage pipe?" Becca squeaked. She jabbed a finger at the drug store entrance. "Open those doors."

Trying not to smile at the sheer panic on Becca's face, Steve scooped an arm around her waist and guided her away from the doors.

Becca tried to go back. "At least let me get a brush. My hair must be a mess."

"No one is going to say anything."

Becca stopped trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but continued to frown. "But –"

"If anyone makes a comment, then we'll have a problem. But they won't."

Steve was, in fact, fairly certain that Stark would make some kind of joke, but he wasn't going to worry Becca with that. She was already attempting with limited success to comb her fingers through her tangled hair as she chewed fretfully on her bottom lip. Steve could tell that she didn't believe him, so he tried another tactic.

"They asked about you earlier."

"The team?"

"Mhm. They asked if you were nice. And pretty."

"Oh?" Becca seemed to forget about her hair, gazing up at him with barely contained curiosity.

"I said that you were the best girl in New York." Those hadn't been Steve's exact words in the moment, but he now knew they were true enough. Besides, his words had the intended effect.

Becca's eyes widened. "You said that?"

"It was along those lines."

"Well…" Becca flushed. "I guess as long as you think so."

"I do."

Steve was rewarded with a pleased smile. For that smile alone, Steve was glad that he had found Becca all those weeks ago. Or rather that she had found him. Somehow, this felt less like the usual story where the hero rescues the girl and gets her at the end of the day. Yeah, he had gotten Becca safely out of the sewers. Yeah, Becca had agreed to a date. But only after she had sprinted into his life, thrust a hand through the confusion of the twenty-first century, and given him a lifeline. Becca caught him staring and winked. Steve smiled softly. It wasn't a one-sided rescue. They were there for each other.

"One thing though," said Becca as they strolled toward Stark Tower.

From the look in her eyes, Steve could already tell that she was about to tease him. "What?"

"Just New York?"

Steve laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**Well, Steve figured it out. Because there's nothing quite like almost losing someone to an alien invasion to make you realize that they're something special.**

**Much thanks to everyone reviewing, favouriting, following, and reading. **


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